


Illumination

by SilviaS7



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Action/Adventure, Continuation, Crime, Drama, Elements of Science Fiction, Explicit Language, Gen, Lots of bad characters doing bad things, Many original characters and locations, Mercenaries, Organized Crime, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Spaceships, Traipsing through the universe, Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 246,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilviaS7/pseuds/SilviaS7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Future Timeline] It was only a matter of time before the Earth was discovered by the wider universe.  Luckily this time the aliens who landed weren't there to conquer the blue planet.  Two years after defeating Cell in his own timeline and one year after making first contact with another species, Trunks is running errands light years from home when he mistakenly helps a gangster rob a mercenary.  To protect friends, family and the Earth, he agrees work for the mercenary to help repay part of what he helped steal, unknowingly throwing himself into a war between criminals and the second great adventure of his lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Opening:  You Break It, You Buy It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks travels to Bmyhad to pick up a few items to take back home to Earth, but ends up in a lot more trouble than he thought possible when he helps a gangster rob a mercenary.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and all related characters belong to Akira Toriyama and other respective owners. I just like to play with what he's created.

 

-+-

 

_Hey Mom, how is everything? Heh... what am I saying, you can read me like a book. 'So what happened?' right? Well, I got into a little mess when I got here into the city. I... accidentally helped this guy mug a girl. Wow, heh, that sounds bad but I promise it sounds a lot worse than it really is. She's fine, actually, but the point is I sort of... owe her a bit of money. Don't panic, it's... not a... huge amount; I mean it's a lot, but... I can take care of it._

_I'm sending you this message because I got a job that's gonna help me pay this debt off really fast, but I'll be gone for a while. Heh, you know what kind of skills I have Mom, they're worth a lot around here, but I have to travel and I won't be in Ute very often. I don't think... I'm gonna have time to see you. I'll send you messages like this one when I can, if you want to you can send your own to the guys at the lab in Ute and have them hold them for me, I may get in occasionally to check them. Of course there are no guarantees, heh._

_Don't worry about me Mom, I'll be fine. And you've got people that need you back home, like Mia and Terry, and I'm sure Neis will keep you company when he isn't driving you completely crazy, hahah. Hey, and I know about Lowell; you can't hide things from me as well as you think you can. He's a good guy Mom, and... he can understand where you're coming from. Take care of everything back home, I'll get in touch with you as soon as I can._

_Bye Mom... I love you._

 

-+-

 

Illumination

Opening: You Break It, You Buy It

 

-+-

 

“I can help whomever is next?” the young teller with the brown hair called out. The next customer in line was a tall blonde haired woman with distressingly messy bangs and the rest of her hair tied up in a bun. The teller became nervous; something certainly seemed wrong with this woman. Her would be customer was paying attention and immediately stepped from the front of the queue in the lobby and walked over to the teller's counter.

The woman was wearing dark sunglasses, so the teller couldn't see her eyes. She also wore a dark jacket and she reached in her pocket for something. The teller hesitated; she kept a straight face but she was about to press the alarm button hidden under the counter when her customer pulled out an account card for the bank. The teller quickly backed her hand away from the alarm and smiled at her customer as she picked up the woman's card and ran it in her system.

In a few seconds her customer's accounts came up, and the teller's eyes widened slightly when she realized who the customer was. She couldn't be blamed though; she had never met this particular customer in person. “Thank you for your business Miss Solaris,” she said with a warm smile. “What can I assist you with today?”

“I need to close my account,” 'Miss Solaris' said rather flatly.

The teller almost panicked. Losing an account this big would be... horrific, to put it simply. “Oh no, is something wrong?” She was going to let the customer answer that question when she decided to tack on, “We can offer _very_ competitive rates for both short and long term investments, and—”

“No,” Solaris cut in, “...thank you.” She looked at the teller steadily for a moment before continuing, “I'm leaving the area and need to take all of my assets with me.”

“We do offer a very robust and very secure online banking system that can be accessed real-time from even the farthest areas of the Republic,” the teller started again. She had to do whatever she could to save this account, or she could be blamed for one of the biggest losses of business her bank had from a single person.

“No,” Solaris cut in, this time beginning to become agitated. “I need,” she stopped and started once more with an irritated sigh, “just close the account and load everything onto my card.”

The teller's attitude dropped. “Yes Miss Solaris, we're very sorry to lose your business,” she finished and looked at her terminal again and calculated the total amount of all of Solaris's accounts. She turned to her customer once more, “For this amount we'll need to split your total assets between four cards due to financial institution regulations. It'll just take a few moments,” the teller's eyes fell and she set about her task. Her manager was going to have a heart attack when he learned about the account closing. “Before I begin, I just need you to confirm that we do have all of your accounts here and that we won't msis anything.” The teller then pointed to the small display facing her customer.

The woman looked down to see several accounts listed, but she wasn't concerned with the details—just that the total amount was correct. When her eyes read the numbers _230, 463, 017_ she looked back up at the teller and nodded. That was indeed the correct amount.

 

-+-

 

Trunks took a deep breath before he stepped inside the gate. Immediately he felt the ground melt away from his feet and the air rush around him, blowing his long hair away from his face. Trunks closed his eyes; he hated to watch, it always made him feel sick. He held tight to the messenger bag draped around his shoulder, and wished it would be over soon. The jump gate always made him feel uneasy, when he was in it he couldn’t tell which way was up and he definitely couldn’t sense anything. It was like suddenly becoming blind and numb to the world. It was disconcerting, but thankfully it was quick.

When Trunks felt the ground come up and settle beneath his feet he let out the breath he had been holding. “Trunks!” he heard a friendly voice call from the other side of the gate. He opened his eyes and saw his friend Murtole through what looked like a waterfall. Trunks stepped through it, still expecting to be wet on the other side but coming out no different than when he entered.

“Hey, I didn’t know Bulma was sending you!” Murtole exclaimed as he pulled the much taller Trunks into an embrace.

“Whoa, not so tight,” Trunks groaned and the young scientist released him, “you know the jump gate makes me queasy.”

“Oh, right,” Murtole smiled guiltily. He pulled on his labcoat, straightening it out.

“Trunks, I think you must have grown taller since I saw you last,” another man entered the room, this one appeared to be about Bulma’s age.

“You say that every time Devan but I was full-grown when you first met me, remember?” Trunks replied with a smirk as the older man approached. When he reached Trunks they shook hands and Devan pulled Trunks into a light hug.

“So what’s your mother need?” Devan asked with a smile. Trunks noticed that his salt-and-pepper hair looked a little thinner than the last time he had seen it, but he was still the tall and lanky middle-aged Bmyhadian he’d known for a year now. Trunks opened his mouth to speak but was stopped short when Devan spoke once more. “How’d I know?” he smirked. “Come on, it’s Bulma we’re talking about, and it’s been a few years. I think I know your mother by now,” he laughed lightly. 'A few years' was a typical Devan exaggeration, it had only been just over a year that they had first met. Devan was an engineering genius not unlike Bulma, and the primary force behind the technology of the jump gate. He could have gone on to make large sums of money in the private sector, but instead worked for the Bmyhadian government buried deep within the National Science and Technology Foundation. It wasn't a part of the military and mostly focused on technology to help people. Or at least that's what Devan had told Trunks at one point in time, and was the reason he stayed where he was. Regardless, Devan was a great help to the Earth and friend, and Trunks was glad to know him.

“Yeah,” Trunks laughed in response, “she needs a few tools, and she gave me a list to give you.” He then reached into the brown messenger bag slung over his right shoulder and pulled out a small piece of paper folded in half and handed it to Devan.

Devan unfolded the paper and read the list with interest. “Huh, what’s she working on?”

“Don’t ask me,” Trunks laughed, “last time I went into the lab unannounced I almost got lit on fire.” The memory floated to the forefront of his mind. He'd only meant to tell her that he was going out with Neis, but the second he walked through the main lab doors a flame shot out toward him. Trunks was lucky to be quick enough to avoid the flames, but the tips of a few strands of hair were singed. He wasn't pleased, but his mother thought it was hilarious.

Devan laughed heartily and shook his head with a smile. “So why’d you come instead of just sending a message?” Devan asked with his ever-present cool smile. “We could have shipped everything to you through the jump gate,” he added.

“Well, as much as I hate the trip,” Trunks answered, “I wanted to get out of the house for a bit. Oh and mom gave me a grocery list, she wants me to pick up some things for her while I’m here. That’s what this is for,” he added and patted the brown messenger bag with his right hand.

“Awesome, let’s go!” Murtole broke in once more, excited at the prospect of spending some time with his friend.

Devan made a disapproving noise and shook his head, garnering the young man’s attention. “Not until 5400, you’ve got work to do.”

“Yes sir,” Murtole smiled sadly as he headed back toward his desk.

Devan turned to Trunks. “Why don’t you go do your shopping now,” Devan motioned to the door with his head, “when you get back you can take Murtole out for a run in the city.” He glanced back at the young scientist before he leaned in closer to Trunks to quietly add, “The poor kid needs more of a social life.”

“Sure,” Trunks nodded. “I’ll see you guys later,” he waved to both of them before leaving the lab.

 

-+-

 

A man with auburn hair wearing a blue suit leaned against the outer wall of a chain of shops along a busy street in Ute. He was slouching, looking around and smiling at passersby; if he fit in or just looked like an idiot standing around then nobody would remember him. He knew how to get lost in plain sight, so to speak, when he was trailing someone. He laughed at a few teenagers who, while walking by, tripped over their own feet and after staggering for a few steps were able to recover. They glared at him, but what did he care. That was when the doors to the largest reserve bank in Ute opened across the street and his eyes drifted up to see if his target was leaving yet.

The man smirked to himself as he pushed off of the wall he was leaned back against and stood upright. “You're not getting away this time,” he said to himself as he watched a blonde haired woman in a black jacket and sunglasses exit the bank and start walking down the street.

 

-+-

 

Trunks weaved in and out of the crowd of people in the outdoor market in downtown Ute as he searched for all of the items on his mother’s list. Well, there were a few things he was going to grab for himself too. Mostly he and Bulma loved the different fruits that came from other worlds. They didn’t look that different from what was found on Earth; they generally had the same size and shape of fruits on Earth, but they were different on the outside or inside, or both. One of his favorites was a fruit native to Bmyhad called kuku, it was the size of a cantaloupe and the same color and texture on the outside, but on the inside was a blood red fruit that was a mixture of sour and sweet.

As Trunks shopped it was hard to believe that just over a year ago this all would have seemed like a dream. He, his mother, and their small group of friends were living out their lives in relative peace on Earth when a spaceship landed not far from Bulma’s home, sending mother and son into a panic. They never knew anything good that came from space to Earth, unless it changed upon arrival. He remembered clearly that sense of dread as they watched these people approach who looked just like humans, in appearance and mannerisms.

The seventeen people who found Earth that day were a group of scientists, researchers, and explorers from a distant planet called Bmyhad. Their nation had a contract with some other interstellar nation to explore uncharted worlds at the end of their territory, and that was how they found Earth. They saw signs of civilization from space and decided to investigate. Bulma and Trunks were greatly concerned at first, but after spending three weeks getting to know the crew Bulma began to bond with the aliens. They were a lot like her, very curious about the way things worked as well as hard and fast practitioners of the scientific method. Then again this was a group of scientists on an exploratory mission. If there was any group of the population of their planet that would be best to meet Bulma first, it was them.

The Bmyhadians were on a government-sanctioned mission and thus had access to humanitarian aid. When they learned that Earth needed aid they quickly got to work. Within a month they had constructed what they and Bulma jointly called a “jump gate,” a small portal the size of a closet that could only transport people and items between the two locations. One was placed in the former Capsule Corporation headquarters, and the other was placed in a government-run lab in the capital city of Bmyhad, Ute.

The Earth had been devastated by the androids. The population had been culled from around six billion to just over a hundred thousand in the nearly two decades the cyborgs were running loose. After that level of devastation, it wasn’t so much that the people of Earth needed food and clothing, but that they needed a new society.. Bulma and the Bmyhadians worked diligently on bringing new technology to Earth to help accelerate the planet's rehabilitation. With more efficient electrical usage cities were starting to rebuild public transportation, and brand new water and sewage systems. Medicines were brought to Earth to help immunize children against diseases that had become rampant during and after the reign of the androids. After several months, Bulma and the foreign scientists, doctors, philosophers, and even some diplomats began working with the local Earth government to implement their changes on a much broader spectrum. They kept things very quiet though, as the general public still held a fear of beings from worlds other than their own. Many people on Earth were still convinced that the androids themselves were aliens. The Bmyhadian government was an unsung hero in the restoration of the Earth, and as a people they were more than happy to help.

Trunks had finished getting all the things he could outside. He opened up the list again and mentally checked off everything he had picked up. Only two things were left: some special insulated wire and a large portable battery. Those would be easy enough to acquire, he just needed to head into one of the electronics stores a few blocks away from the open-air market. He put the list back into the front right pocket of his jacket and headed on his way.

 

-+-

 

Admittedly, she would miss Ute. It was a nice city, large enough to serve as a safe haven, lawful enough that crime wasn't rampant, but still not secure enough to make her life hard. There was something almost... charming about the city. But charming wasn't quite a word in her vocabulary, so if she had to put it to words, she'd probably say that she had just grown too used to the scenery. But she'd been in Ute for almost two years, the longest she had ever kept up shop anywhere by far, and she felt it was time to move on before she was compromised—because it would only be a matter of time.

The sun shone down brightly as she walked to an intersection and stopped with the rest of the crowd and waited for her turn to cross. She was lost in her thoughts, something that rarely happened when she felt a hand on her left shoulder. Her head shot around to see who would dare lay a hand on her, and when she saw a face all too familiar her eyes shot open wide.

“Been a long time since we've seen each other, hasn't it?” the auburn haired man asked with that devilish grin of his. He looked exactly the same as the last time she had seen him, and it unnerved her. Especially since she had long thought he had died along with everyone else from that time in her life.

“Dax,” she said almost breathlessly. If she looked like she had seen a ghost, it was because indeed she had.

“We need to talk,” he said, his grin fading and his eyes indicating a level of seriousness from him that let her know this was no social call—and even if it was, what would she say?

The blonde haired woman turned to face her old comrade. She looked left past him and down the street, then motioned her head in that direction as it was less crowded than the corner they were standing at. “Over there,” she said to confirm that he'd gotten her message.

He smiled with that same unnerving smirk and released her shoulder. “Lead the way,” he said and stepped backward and to the side, out of her way.

After they had walked halfway down the city block and stood near a wall between two storefronts, the woman stopped and turned around to face him. “Dax,” she started but he cut her off.

“You look good, Ar,” he said with a wistful look to his face. “I wish I could say this was a good visit.”

'Ar' shook her head. “What are you doing?” To a bystander, it sounded like a cold demand, but Dax knew better. “I know that uniform,” she added flatly and motioned toward his attire.

“I don't have time to talk about that,” Dax said almost sorrowfully. “It was just something I had to do to keep a promise to a friend.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but merely shook his head and continued. “Look, I'm not here to talk about me, I'm here to talk about money.” He looked at Ar and she stared blankly back at him. Well, only blankly because her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. But he could feel her glaring at him.

She stayed silent so he decided to start talking. “A few months ago you took it upon yourself to destroy some real estate that belongs to my employers.” He paused a moment and she shifted her weight on her feet, a move that made him nervous. “They're looking for restitution, Armada.”

Armada took a step forward and leaned in close to his face. “I can't believe you'd work for a group like that after everything we went through back then,” she spat angrily. “As for your employer's 'restitution,'” she mocked the word, “tell them to go fuck themselves.” With that said she moved to the side of Dax and walked past him. Despite all the questions hanging in the back of her mind about how he'd survived and how exactly he'd ended up with Rieve, she stayed silent. If he was with them, then they had nothing to discuss.

Dax turned and shouted after her, “I told them that you're nothing to be trifled with,” he paused when she stopped around six feet away from him, her back still facing him. “That they'd save themselves money and resources if we just approached you peacefully first.” He waited for some kind of reaction but she stood stone still, not that it was unusual for her, even after not seeing her for nearly a decade. She started walking again and Dax called out once more, “They'll come after you if you don't pay them.”

Armada stopped walking again and turned her body slightly to look back at Dax. “Do you think I'm afraid of them?” she asked with a steely edge to her voice.

Dax glared back at her for a moment before responding. “You should be.” Silence sat between them for a moment, then Armada turned her back and started walking away for the third time. “They're going to kill you!” Dax shouted at her. “Don't you understand that?!”

If that was how it was going to be, then so be it. Armada wasn't afraid of death; no, not even close. Threats of Rieve coming after her meant nothing; she expected this would happen after she destroyed that factory. What she _didn't_ expect was Dax—she didn't even think he was alive. She thought he died when she last saw him over eight years ago.

Angered by his outburst, she spun around and opened her mouth to tell Dax to go fuck himself with his employer when he came upon her in a rush. She wasn't ready for the uppercut to her stomach that knocked the wind out of her, and she was embarrassed and angry with herself for falling for such a stupid trick. It was like watching everything in slow motion as Dax's hands reached into her jacket pocket and he pulled out four bank cards. Armada's eyes widened as she realized what was happening, but before she could regain her breath to act, Dax shoved her to the ground and ran off into the crowd.

In a few seconds Armada scrambled to her feet and took off on foot after him. They were in downtown Ute, in the shopping district in the middle of the day. The crowds were thick and she could barely keep up between dodging people. She cursed Dax in her mind as she sprinted after him, he probably knew just as well as she did that they couldn't fly or do anything to attract attention. He was a thief right now and she couldn't bring herself to the attention of the authorities since she was wanted in several dozen countries around the Federation Alliance and would more than likely be in the local police database. They might not have a picture or description of her, but she couldn't risk it—and risk letting two hundred and thirty million betas leave in someone else's hands.

 

-+-

 

Dax ran, weaving in and out of people on the streets and sidewalks of Ute. Armada did her best to follow, but the sea of people they were running through made it difficult since she had to move around them. It was then that she noticed he started using his energy to almost jump from one open space to the next. Armada growled and did the same—she couldn't let him get away, but she still needed to be careful about using her energy. There were sensors everywhere and the last thing she wanted was police or military attention.

Dax knew Armada was hot on his trail so he looked for any way to possibly slow her down. He saw a guy a bit taller than the average Bmyhadian up ahead and decided to go for it. He appeared just behind the violet-haired man and grabbed his right arm. “Help, help me!” Dax cried, plastering on the most panicked face he could manage.

“Wh-what?” Trunks took a step back from the man that suddenly grabbed him, completely shocked.

“My ex-wife, she’s trying to kill me!” the man screamed. He had strange messy reddish-brown hair and wore some blue uniform, like he worked in an office or something. Trunks looked up as the man pointed behind himself to see a blonde woman with sunglasses on sprinting to their location.

“Ahhh!” the young man in the blue uniform screamed as he ran past Trunks and pushed the Earthling toward the woman chasing him. Trunks stumbled for a second but immediately caught the woman by her arms as she nearly ran him over.

Dax smirked and glanced behind himself to see Armada run right into the unwitting samaritan. _Have fun with that one, Ar_ , he laughed to himself as he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Just from the quick contact he knew the guy was no Bmyhadian and was definitely not as weak as one, either.

“What are you doing; let me go!” the woman screamed and pushed forward on Trunks, breaking her right arm free from the grasp of his left hand. Shock flashed across Trunks’s face as he realized she wasn’t the average Bmyhadian; she had some power in her to push him like that and he felt her _ki_ flare ever so slightly when she did.

Apparently the woman realized this too, because her sunglasses slid down her nose just enough for Trunks to see the top half of her eyes and read the emotion on her face as well. She pulled her left arm again but Trunks held tight. “Police!” he yelled in the middle of the crowd, “this woman is trying to kill her ex-husband!”

“What?” the woman immediately stopped struggling. “Is that what he said to you?!” she shouted her question. From the look on Trunks’s face he guessed that she figured it out. “That guy just robbed me!” she yelled and clenched her teeth. “Now let _go!_ ” she surged forward with a punch from her right hand aimed directly at Trunks’s face.

Trunks was surprised, she came at him with a speed he hadn’t seen in a few years. He brought his right hand up and caught her fist in it just before it hit his left cheek, but the force of her punch and his shock pushed him backward and the pair bumped into an older woman before they both fell to the pavement. Bystanders started to scream and someone helped the older woman from falling.

The blond haired woman was leaning forward over Trunks, and she brought her face down to within two inches of his. “Let go of me before I kill you,” she said deliberately and charged up her energy in her fist that was captured in Trunks’s hand. Before he could say anything someone screamed.

“There, those two! It’s them!”

Both fighters turned to see Utian police headed straight for them. The blond haired woman leaped up away from Trunks’s grasp and ran around a corner. Two officers chased her and when they reached the edge of the building they stopped. “Where’d she go…?” one said while they both appeared dumbfounded.

Trunks saw three Utian bank cards lying on the ground just next to his left hip and quickly brushed the cards under his body. “What’s going on here?” one of the officers demanded of Trunks.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he put on his best good-boy voice, “she ran into me and I was trying to stop her.”

The officer who spoke before glared at Trunks suspiciously before responding. “Get out of here. If I see your face again today you’re going to jail for public disturbance.”

“Yes sir,” Trunks nodded as the two officers turned and left. He stood up slowly and pulled the three bank cards into his left hand. He picked up the messenger bag full of groceries on his right and discretely slid the bank cards into the left pocket of his jacket. He started walking in the direction he was originally headed; he still needed to get a few things for his mother before he returned to the lab.

 

-+-

 

Trunks sat eating a piece of fruit in the lounge with Murtole after he finished telling his story.

“So she dropped these bank cards?” Murtole said, holding them up in his hand. There were two completely black cards and one blue card.

“I guess so; nobody else tried to pick anything up and they’re not mine,” Trunks added as he took another bite of fruit.

“Well let’s see how much is on here,” Murtole laughed as he turned around in his chair. He picked up a laptop from the table in front of him and inserted one of the black cards into the card reader on the side. He started to read what was on the card and his face looked perplexed.

“What is it?” Trunks asked as he moved to sit on the armrest of Murtole’s chair and get a closer look at the laptop screen.

“One beta,” Murtole looked up at him with a disbelieving scowl. “Bank cards like this require a minimum balance of fifty beta. To put one on this card is just… stupid. You’d end up _paying_ several beta each day you’re under the minimum.”

“Well maybe after her last purchase there was only one beta left,” Trunks supplied.

“That’s possible,” Murtole said as he pulled the card out of his laptop and replaced it with the second black card, “but there was no fraction of a beta, just one whole single beta.”

Trunks watched as the second card’s account information was displayed, it too had only one and exactly one beta on it. “Man, this is too weird,” Murtole said as he pulled the card out. He stuck the blue card in and waited for the information to pop up. “Let me guess,” he said while he waited. The amount showed up and he said immediately, “One beta. What the hell?” he asked in annoyance and moved to take the blue bank card out.

“Wait, what’s that?” Trunks asked between a mouthful of food. He pointed to a small yellow warning icon that had appeared in the corner of the taskbar. Murtole clicked on it and a black screen popped up, slowly revealing words on the screen.

Murtole read. “Contracts… large and small, professional expertise in all required fields, contact 08004562-A92-KKR4.” Murtole looked at the screen in confusion a moment before he turned to Trunks to speak. “It sounds like… a business card.” Mutole paused. “Why would you hide your job ad on a nearly empty bank card?”

Trunks grimaced, “When you’ve got something to hide.”

 

-+-

 

Armada leaned back lazily on the bench she was sitting on in the park just north of downtown Ute. She had her eyes closed but she could feel the sun hitting her face and it was kind of nice; she hadn’t had much time lately to just go outside and enjoy the weather. She opened her eyes when the cell phone in her right hand rang. She casually brought it up to the side of her face and answered. “Yeah?”

 _“Got the trace,”_ a male voice said on the other end. _“It’s definitely coming from the ministry,”_ he finished.

“Thanks,” Armada sad flatly before hanging up the phone. She stood from the park bench and looked at the building across the street she was scoping out from the park. Her eyes narrowed. _Dax, I’m not as stupid as you’d like to think._

 

-+-

 

Late that evening, Murtole wandered from the lab to the kitchen for another pot of coffee. Bulma had given it to him last time she came through the jump gate and he couldn’t get enough of the stuff. The taste wasn’t that great but it helped him stay up late on nights like these when he was working into the early hours of the morning.

Murtole yawned as he finished filling his mug. He picked up the cup and turned around but was immediately stopped by a pair of strong hands grabbing him, one covering his mouth and the other wrapped around the back of his neck.

The young scientist dropped his mug of coffee which it the floor with a dull thud, spilling the liquid within all over the kitchen floor. His eyes widened in shock as a pair of dark blue eyes stared at him from underneath messy blond bangs. “Scream and you’re dead,” he heard the harsh voice of a woman whisper to him. Murtole nodded in her grip and she let go of his mouth.

“Where are they?” she asked in hushed tones, the hand on the back of his neck holding him tight.

“Where’s w-what?” Murtole stuttered, scared out of his mind. Her grip was _way_ stronger than any normal person.

“The bank cards!” she glared at him angrily.

“They’re at my desk in the lab,” Murtole shook as he spoke.

“Did Dax put you up to this?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; my friend found the cards on the street, that’s all,” Murtole shook in her grasp.

She must have believed him because her grip on his neck loosened as she continued to stare in his eyes. Murtole thought he saw a flash of understanding there, and made no attempt to move yet. He saw something move in the shadows behind the woman and his eyes glanced over her right shoulder.

“Let him go now.”

Still holding tight to Murtole, the woman spun around to find the same man from earlier that day standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “You…!” her eyes widened in shock before they narrowed again in anger. “This is a set-up!” she turned her attention back to Murtole and pulled him against her violently. She held his back to her chest, her left arm clenched around his collarbone, and her right hand up by his neck. Murtole felt a heat emanating from her right hand and noticed a white light in the room.

Trunks saw the woman charge a ki blast in her right hand next to Murtole’s neck. “Let him go, he has nothing to do with this!” Trunks shouted at her, angered she would take a hostage.

“It was all part of Dax’s plan, wasn’t it?!” she yelled at Trunks. “Well you stole from the wrong person,” her voice lowered to a menacing treble.

“It’s me you want, right?” Trunks started, doing whatever he could to get his scared friend out of harm’s way. “Let him go, he had nothing to do with this,” Trunks repeated, a little more softly this time.

The woman reluctantly released Murtole, and he fumbled away from her before he tripped over a chair and fell to the floor in the kitchen. He watched his friend Trunks stare down this intruder. What the hell was going on?

Trunks now noticed she looked completely different from when he had last seen her. She was wearing some type of black and dark blue armor that made her hard to see in the dark. The only things uncovered were her head and the very tips of her fingers.

“I don’t know who Dax is,” Trunks finally spoke, “but I’m sorry for what happened today. I made a mistake.”

“You’re sorry?” she spat. “I had just cleared all my bank accounts in this country, I was going to leave. Dax… he got away with over two hundred and thirty million betas. That was everything I had,” she ground out through clenched teeth. Trunks noticed her fists clench unconsciously. “And you’re sorry,” she added again, her eyes showing Trunks just how angry and hurt she was.

Trunks was shocked though he didn’t let his face show it. _Two hundred and thirty million betas…? Kami, what the hell does this woman do?_ he thought with concern.

“As much as I’d like to kill you, I have a better idea,” the woman spoke again, her features relaxing slightly. “You’ll work for me, and work off your debt.”

“What?” Trunks was taken aback. “How do you expect me to earn that much money?” Perhaps that wasn't the most pertinent question to ask but it was the first one to come to mind.

“You won’t work it all off,” she replied in a much calmer tone. “But enough so that I’m satisfied.”

“What if I refuse?” Trunks asked with a scowl.

He saw her eyes glance around the room and briefly over Murtole once again. “Then I’ll have to take whatever I can find,” she finished, her eyes settling on his.

Trunks thought over his options. He couldn’t let her attack Murtole or the others over something he did. But it was an honest mistake; he didn’t mean to help the guy who robbed her. Sure he felt guilty about it but shouldn’t she be chasing him down instead of Trunks? He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that was all. However, he couldn’t risk the lives of the Bmyhadians in the lab nor the location of his home world and most importantly, his mother.

“How do you expect me to help you?” Trunks asked with a hardened gaze.

She smirked at him. “You’re just like me, otherwise you wouldn’t have caught my punch in the first place.” She stood upright and walked over to Trunks, the animosity dissipating from her face. “I’m Armada.”

“Trunks,” the Earthling replied. The thought occurred to him that maybe it wasn't a good idea to give out his real name, but it was too late. Little good it would do her though, considering he wasn't from Bmyhad, or anywhere else nearby for that matter.

“Well Trunks,” Armada raised an eyebrow at him and still had that smirk on her face, “get your things, work starts now.”

 

-+-

 

Trunks stepped out of the communications room at the lab and picked up his bag on the floor. He'd just recorded a message to his mother to explain that he wouldn't be coming home any time soon. Real time communication between Bmyhad and Earth was impossible, so all they could do was send prerecorded messages between the two locations. Murtole watched him with worry while Devan stared at the unwelcome stranger in the doorway to the lab. Trunks walked up to Murtole and gave him a half-hearted smile. His younger friend pulled him into a hug and Trunks’s features eased a little.

Trunks looked over to Devan as Murtole released him, and the head scientist at the lab gave Trunks an almost disapproving look. Trunks knew it was because Devan was upset at how things turned out, but Trunks couldn’t let things get out of hand. Besides, Devan didn’t know Trunks’s real strength; he wasn’t worried about taking care of himself. He just wanted them to stay safe.

He turned to face Armada who was standing in the doorway to the lab. She nodded her head at Trunks and turned around, walking out of the lab. He turned around and gave a weak smile to his friends before following after her. He wasn’t sure what he got himself into, but he was certain he’d get out of it soon enough.

 

-+-

 

One final note:  I reference Trunks's age with his biological age, not his chronological age.  For those of us who have never trained in the Room of Spirit and Time, these two numbers are the same.  Chronologically, Trunks would be 23 when this fanfic starts, but biologically he is 25 because he spent two years in the RoSaT.  I choose to go by his biological age because in canon he is shown as having grown during that time (18 to 20).  This shows that time passed in a meaningful way for him personally, and I think if you asked him how old he was he would answer 25 and not 23.  Anyway, I wanted to clear that up since I've had questions about it before.  Thanks again for reading!

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, I would love to know what you thought--whether good, bad or ugly.

Silvia


	2. Mission 01: Corporate Espionage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks's first job includes stealing corporate documents, and a fight in an office highrise.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and all related characters belong to Akira Toriyama and other respective owners. I just like to play with what he's created, heehee. <3

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks walked behind Armada as she led them to the end of one of the piers in Ute. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going, considering all that he could see were warehouses, but he remained silent for the time being. He noticed her her pick up her pace and jog toward a building before she stopped at the door. He followed suit.

 

She stopped in front of the door to the complex and entered a number quickly into the keypad. Trunks tried to watch but he only caught the first six of eleven or twelve digits. The door opened and she walked inside, Trunks right behind her.

 

“Whoa,” Trunks stopped just inside the door to see that the warehouse was occupied by a large spacecraft.

 

Armada turned to face him. “It's my ship, and because I'm broke I can't buy any fuel to leave this damn place,” she added matter-of-factly. She turned away from him and flew up to the side of the ship. “We'll be working here in Ute until I can get some fuel.”

 

Trunks stood and watched her fly up to the ship. She had a lot more control over her ki than she let on, he could tell now because she wasn't so guarded about it. He wasn't worried; if it came down to it he figured he was stronger than her. He didn't want to just fight his way out of this, though—he did make a mistake and he felt like he owed her. He'd rather find some way to work out his leaving peacefully than just flee and cause his friends in Ute undue harm in the process.

 

Trunks flew up to the ship after her, and watched as Armada punched another code into a keypad outside the door to the ship. It slid open and he followed her inside, she immediately headed to the right in the hall. Trunks stopped and watched her, unsure of what to do and she turned in the air to face him. “It's not huge, you'll figure it out,” she said before disappearing around the corner at the end of the hall.

 

Trunks took a guess and headed left. He passed a small room with a large monitor set up on one wall and guessed it was the ship's comm room. He kept going and found three doors at the end of the hall, all of them open. He glanced inside; each was a small barracks with three beds. Two were untouched, and one had a few things lying around in the room, so he figured out which one of the three was occupied. Trunks settled into the room to the left of the one that was taken and set his bag with his few things from the lab at Ute on one of the beds. He glanced around and found a bathroom attached to the room and guessed each room probably had the same.

 

 _Kind of lonely_ , Trunks thought as he walked out of the barracks. _Nine beds and only one person here... well two now I suppose_. At the end of the hall where Armada disappeared he found the bridge, and Armada was sitting at the console in the middle of the others, typing away at the keys furiously.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 01: Corporate Espionage

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks walked up behind Armada where she sat and looked up at the monitor in front of her. She was reading a message that appeared to be an offer for some work. “What's up?” Trunks asked as she read.

 

“We've got a job,” she said flatly and started to type up a quick reply. She sent it off before Trunks could say anything else and she turned her chair around to face him—it swiveled in place. “Nothing too hard to start,” she said and stood up. Trunks instinctively backed up a few steps so she had room to walk away. Instead she stayed put where she was and looked to him as she continued.

 

“We're going to break into a corporate office building in another city tonight to retrieve some internal documents,” she stated flatly.

 

“No qualms about breaking the law,” Trunks added sardonically as he watched Armada move past him toward another doorway in the bridge, leading to areas unknown to him.

 

She stopped in the doorway and turned to face him. “It wouldn't be necessary if there was a place in this universe for old soldiers like me, but there isn't,” she said rather calmly. She paused for a moment before she spoke again. “Feel free to look around the ship, I'll be down in the engines cleaning the fuel lines.” She turned away and walked off again. “Can't get fuel yet so I might as well clean them now,” she threw out over her shoulder as she walked away.

 

Trunks watched her turn out of his sight down the hallway and decided to follow down the corridor himself to see what was on this side of the ship. Like she said, he needed to get a grasp on where everything was. The first thing he saw was through a door on his right, what appeared to be a lounge or sitting room. There was a table in the corner with wrap-around seating and more seating on the wall across from it. From both areas one could view the monitor on the wall closest to where Trunks entered, and facing the bridge.

 

He saw another door leading through the break where the seating was and decided to continue. He soon found himself in the ship's kitchen, or more aptly the galley as he thought about it. He took a moment to peek in the cabinets and refrigerator to find a lot of stuff he recognized as Bmyhadian and a few things he didn't.

 

Trunks left the galley and stopped in the corridor; on the wall opposite the side with the galley and lounge was a safe on the wall and what appeared to be a closet next to it. Both had keypads so he didn't bother with them for now. Just after the galley he found the infirmary, with three beds and a large steel center island. He didn't bother to look through the storage in there; there were still a lot of medical supplies in the lab he didn't recognize so he didn't want to bother with anything until he could ask questions.

 

Across from the infirmary there was nothing of note, and Trunks figured it was due to the barracks on the other side. At the end of the hall parallel to this one the three rooms were on each side of the hall with one in the middle reaching off the end, which was now Trunks's room. He glanced to the end of the hall he was in to see a set of stairs heading down. He walked about halfway down the stairs to see what looked like a cargo bay and more areas beyond it. He heard noise in the distance and assumed that the rest was access to engines and other systems in case any repairs were required.

 

He turned and headed back to his room; he wanted to finish settling in. It was still night, and only a few hours earlier had Armada broken into the lab and conscripted Trunks into helping her with her business, exactly whatever it was. So if they were going to bust into some office building tonight, she meant after the rest of the day they were currently on. It was going to be a while so he thought he should finish putting his things away and get some rest; who knew how long this operation was going to take.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“You ready?” Trunks heard Armada call down the hall to his barracks for him.

 

“Yeah,” he replied as he finished putting his jacket on and walked out the door to his room and down the hall to meet her at the door to the ship.

 

She was dressed in her armor, no surprise there, but he was taken back by the look on her face when she saw him. “Seriously?” she asked with an irritated visage.

 

“What?” Trunks asked defensively. He was wearing a black tank top with his dark blue denim jacket over it, and long grey pants that fell to cover his orange boots. He certainly didn't see what the problem was.

 

Armada let out annoyed breath as she looked him up and down. “I don't have anything for you and there's no time to worry about it for now,” she said and reached over to open the ship's door. She flew out and Trunks followed; a few seconds later when they hit the ground at the door to the warehouse he heard the ship door close behind them.

 

The pair walked outside and Armada stopped on the sidewalk, facing the street. Trunks glanced left and right as he slowly moved to her side. “So now what?”

 

Armada pulled a small piece of the navy alloy from her belt and clicked a button on it. A black car from down the street flashed its headlights, pulled out into the street and drove to their location and parked. She glanced to her left at him. “We drive.” She put the piece of metal back in its spot on her belt and walked around to the left side of the car. Trunks followed her lead and opened the door and got in on the passenger side. He recognized Bmyhadian cars but had no idea she had one. Then again, it wasn't surprising if she was living here.

 

Once inside and buckled up, Armada started driving and Trunks looked out the side rear-view mirror. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon. If they were leaving now he supposed their trip might be longer than he expected. “So,” he asked and turned to glance at Armada, “how long 'till we get there?”

 

She didn't bother to take her eyes off the road as she slowed and made a left turn. “The office we're breaking into is in another city about two hundred kilometers away,” she stated casually. “It'll be well after dark when we get there.”

 

Trunks nodded and turned to look out the window and watch the Utian scenery pass by. He didn't mind the drive; he'd get to see what was outside the city. He'd never left before so the prospect was interesting. He just hoped that she had a plan for when they arrived.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Several hours after nightfall, the two mercenaries stood beside the black car they took to the city of Mensa and watched the building they were targeting. Armada was looking through a pair of binoculars when she lowered them and handed them to Trunks. “The stragglers are leaving,” she nodded toward the building.

 

He took the binoculars and looked up to the seventeenth floor of the highrise building. He could see inside the windows with the binoculars special glare reduction and did indeed see the last few employees leaving the building. “They don't have a night shift?” Trunks asked as he brought the binoculars down from his eyes and handed them back to Armada.

 

She took the binoculars and hooked them onto the side of her belt. “They usually have light security and a late shift of researchers but they're all leaving for the night for the building to undergo a routine fumigation.” She walked around to the rear of the car and opened the trunk.

 

“If they're fumigating then how the hell are we supposed to get in?” Trunks asked as he turned to follow her movements.

 

“These,” she lifted the hood high enough so he could see inside. He looked over to find two sets of goggles, small tanks and masks.

 

 

-+-

 

 

With their goggles and masks in place, and the long black tubes of oxygen strapped to their right thighs, the pair was ready to enter the building. Trunks glanced at his watch to see it was sometime after midnight, and the fumigation had started about two hours earlier, shortly after everyone left the building. Armada kicked open a metal door on the side of the building facing the alley and the pair moved in. She turned around and closed the door behind them, and proceeded to use her energy to melt the metal of the lock so the door wouldn't open. “We don't need anyone following us,” she said before walking farther into the building.

 

The pair entered in the back area of a kitchen of a restaurant on the ground floor of the building. After walking through the kitchen and the front of the restaurant they reached the center of the skyscraper. The middle square of the building was empty on each floor all the way to the top, where dim light from the surrounding city poured in through a skylight. Armada nodded to Trunks before she flew up and he followed suit.

 

Once they reached the seventeenth floor they moved over the center railing and landed on the floor. Armada glanced left and right to get a bearing on exactly where they were. “This way,” she said softly and started walking down the hall to their left. She followed the numbers on office doors until she found their destination. She tried to open the door but found it locked with another keypad. Before Trunks could say anything she punched the keypad, crushing it into the wall. The door slid open in response and she walked in.

 

Inside they found what appeared to be a larger office. Armada sat at one of the terminals in the room and booted it up. She quickly typed in a username and password and waited for the system to load.

 

“How do you know that?” Trunks asked as he stood over her shoulder and watched.

 

“The client gave me the information needed to complete the mission; standard procedure,” she said calmly as the system loaded. She reached down and pulled a small data chip from her belt and inserted it into the computer next to the monitor. She navigated a few directories before she found the files she was searching for and began to copy them over.

 

“That's it?” Trunks asked. “Seems too easy,” he said as he stood upright.

 

“Not quite,” Armada spoke as the files finished copying and she pulled the data chip out before she had the system log out. She turned and stood, and put the data chip back into a compartment on her belt. “Now we need to go downstairs to the basement clean room and get the physical files we need.”

 

Just as the pair went to leave, Trunks sensed an energy signature. He turned to look but felt it soaring toward them at an incredible speed. “Get down!” he shouted and threw himself and Armada to the ground. Just as they hit the floor the wall behind them exploded and sent debris flying everywhere.

 

Armada grimaced and jumped up to her knees. She crawled forward to kneel behind the area of wall in front of them that hadn't been destroyed. Trunks scrambled up and followed her. “I don't sense anything,” she whispered to him, the mask distorting her voice. The dust behind them began to settle and the pair sat in silence, unmoving.

 

Trunks sat and listened. He couldn't risk looking around their current cover, and he couldn't smell anything, so he relied on the last sense available to him. He heard a footstep but before he could react Armada stood up high enough to see over their cover and fire a return shot. All was silent for a few seconds before a barrage of energy was shot at them. Both fighters flew low to the ground to the end of the room in an attempt to stay in cover.

 

The pair huddled in a corner as the debris and dust settled over where they just were. It was all destroyed with shrapnel of the metal structure in the walls of the building littered about. Trunks was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Armada on his left. He looked to her and her eyes met his. “Stay here,” she whispered. She moved forward and he grabbed her right arm with his right hand.

 

She glared at him. “Don't move,” she whispered once more and jerked her arm free of his. Before he could protest she flew toward the other end of the room, much faster than he'd thought her capable of. In the wake of her flight whoever was attacking them fired a multitude of shots and more explosions rang out. He wanted to yell for her but knew it wasn't in either of their interests at the moment.

 

This time there was a lot more debris in the air so Trunks couldn't see if Armada was okay, though he didn't see any blood so that was a start. “Well, we expected a bit more from you,” Trunks heard a male voice call out. It too was distorted from the man speaking wearing a mask, and Trunks crept up until he could see above the overturned desk and piece of wall he was hiding behind to take a glance at their assailants.

 

He saw three men, the one in the middle slowly walking toward Armada's position—or where Trunks assumed she ended up since he still couldn't see clearly to the other end of the office. "Expect more from me?" he heard his comrade spit back. "You dipshits set off the alarms." Trunks didn't hear any alarms but it made sense—they never disabled any on their way in, and they were probably silent anyway. "Just wait until Mensa PD gets here," she added.

 

"Hah," the man in the center kept moving toward her and charged a blast of energy around his right fist. "Don't make me laugh. You think we'd walk in here unprepared? You were the one who didn't expect us."

 

 _Sounds like they didn't see me,_ Trunks thought. He didn't bank on it though, and kept his head down as far as he could while still being able to see the three men. The two in the back started to move forward behind the one who was talking. "I don't know exactly how stupid you are," he looked to the direction of Armada's voice, "just that you are stupid." The dust cleared a bit and he could see her huddled behind a partial wall, blood dripping from her right elbow.

 

"Come on out now," the man spoke as he sauntered closer. Trunks could make out his face now as he approached, and his mind ran with possible tactics to get out of this situation. From what he had seen so far, he figured he was still a lot stronger than their assailants, but too much energy dispersed in the area could make the building structurally weak and collapse—not just on them, but anyone else in the city around the building. He dismissed the idea with too many casualties.

 

He could fly forward to fight them off hand-to-hand, but then he didn't know if they would end up destroying the building. He wasn't sure how strong Armada was to leave her to defend herself. _Damn_ he cursed mentally.

 

"We don't want to have to force you out, but we will if necessary," the man said as he looked behind a few overturned desks and chairs and continued walking toward Armada's general direction.

 

"You wouldn't dare," Armada shouted back. She started inching her way from the wall she was backed up against and closer to Trunks, though not by much considering there was at least fifty feet between them. "You wouldn't make it out of here alive," she scoffed at them.

 

"You don't know that," he responded, still moving forward with the search. "We're stupid, remember?"

 

Armada stopped when she reached the end of the pile of debris, or rather the pile got too short for her to hide behind. She pulled something from her belt and looked over to Trunks. Without saying anything she made a throwing motion, then pretended to cover her head and eyes. He wasn't sure what she was about to do but he nodded in understanding.

 

She leaned forward a bit and threw the tiny object in her hand backwards with her right arm, and it landed at the foot of the talkative man. "What the hell is this?" he said in irritation and bent down to pick it up. Armada ducked her head and used her arms to cover her eyes, and Trunks did the same. No sooner had he closed his eyes, he saw a flash of bright light through his eyelids. _Flash grenade?_ He thought as he turned and looked to his comrade. She was gone from her spot and he took that as the sign to go for it.

 

"Shit!" one of the men who had yet to speak cursed as he rubbed at his eyes. Trunks flew straight for him but at the last second the man sloppily dodged around him. Trunks stopped and turned to see the third man fire a ki blast at him, which he easily swatted away with his left forearm. The energy shot up into the higher floors of the building, blasting through several floors before he heard it explode.

 

Before Trunks could think the same man flew at him and started swinging. Trunks easily dodged his attacks as he realized this man hadn't been blinded by the flashbang; maybe he ducked away in time. It didn't matter because he was too slow for the Earthling who dodged a right roundhouse punch before he launched his own assault. Trunks started with a knee to the man's gut, then several hard punches to face before a second kick to send him flying away into a wall.

 

"Alex!"

 

Trunks turned to the sound of the scream to see the darker-skinned man of the three fire a blast at him. He quickly dodged out of the way and came up on his attacker to deal a lethal uppercut when he dodged Trunks far faster than he anticipated. Trunks's eyes widened in shock as he felt a harsh kick to his back, across his shoulder blades which sent him falling forward to the floor. He caught himself on hands and knees in time to glance behind himself and fly out of the way of another energy blast, this one leaving a hole in the floor.

 

"You're gonna make the whole building collapse!" Trunks shouted as he flew. He found another room that was mostly in tact and ducked inside, settling on the floor on his haunches ready to move if he needed to. Trunks sat silent and listened; he didn't hear anything going on. Where did his comrade go, and the guy who was firing at them in the first place?

 

"Alex, you okay?" the dark skinned fighter asked as he helped his comrade up.

 

"Yeah," the guy wiped at blood oozing from his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. When he was attacked his mask had been destroyed, but it appeared the fumigation wasn't affecting him. "He's fast, Royce; definitely not your average fighter."

 

"I'm fast too," Royce replied as Alex took a breath and dusted himself off. Before either party could say anything else, something crashed through the ceiling above and landed right next to them. They turned to see a body rise up to its knees from the rubble.

 

"Get her!" they heard their comrade yell from above and their heads snapped back down to see the woman they were after jump up from the debris and tackle them both to the ground. Before they could react she jumped up from their bodies and flew off to another corner of the room.

 

Trunks was about to make another move when Armada flew around a corner and knelt next to him. "You okay?" she asked through heavy breaths.

 

"I'm fine, what about you?" Trunks asked as he saw that now she had blood smeared under her chin in addition to the blood oozing from her the inside of her right elbow.

 

"Nothing serious," she waved him off with her right hand, which appeared to be moving fine.

 

"One of them avoided the flash, but the other two are still feeling it," she said with a quick glance in the direction of their attackers. "The loudmouth is injured, so I'll take him and the one who can still see fine, if you get the third guy," Armada said and swallowed hard.

 

"No way," Trunks said, "I'll take the quiet two and you get their leader," he stated rather than suggested.

 

Armada shook her head. "Don't get yourself killed."

 

"Same to you," Trunks smirked at her. The two then immediately took off for their targets, causing the room they left from to crumble under the pressure of their launch.

 

Trunks was headed for the one he figured was Alex, who was wearing a blue shirt. Right before he got there the dark skinned guy—Royce, he assumed—appeared in front of him and smirked as he fired a giant blast of energy. Trunks didn't have time to dodge so he had to return fire and deflect as much of the shot as he could.

 

In the ensuing explosion, Armada lifted her arms to block debris from hitting her face only to find the guy in the blue shirt slam into her and fly her into and through several office walls. He finally stopped when they reached the last room and let Armada fall to the floor and skid to a stop in front of the wall of windows on the edge of the building. She went to get up and he was on her, hands around her throat.

 

"Sorry you gotta die," Alex said through gritted teeth and heavy breaths. Armada had her hands on his but as she lost oxygen she was losing the strength to pull him off. "It's just my job." She continued to struggled with pulling his hands from her throat when she charged energy blasts into both hands which blew the pair apart.

 

"You bitch!" Alex screamed as he shook his arms; the places where her hands had grasped his forearms were burnt and bleeding. Armada coughed, her hands were burnt and bloody too but now she could breathe. He charged at her again and Armada caught his fists in her hands. She crushed them in her fists before turning to fling him out the windows behind her.

 

Alex grabbed her wrists when she released his fists and the pair tumbled through the glass and outside the building. Armada pushed her right elbow into his neck under his chin to get him to let go of her, and Alex coughed and released his left hand. She then flew them down toward to the ground with the intent to slam him into the asphalt below.

 

Armada only had a few more seconds to pry his right hand from her arm, and focused on pushing into his throat more. Alex felt his hand starting to lose its grip, so he pulled a six-inch knife from his left side with his left hand and jammed it into Armada's back right above the scapula. At thirty feet before ground impact Armada stopped and let Alex's body keep going due to his momentum. The knife wasn't in her skin deep and his hand didn't let it go, so the knife dragged over her shoulder and up the right side of her neck before it left her body. He did keep going and hit the ground in a loud boom, breaking up the asphalt around him and creating a cloud of dirt obscuring him from view. Armada took a deep breath and winced as her right hand went up to cover the slice in her neck.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After the explosion in front of him, Trunks had a few cuts on his face and hands but had taken almost no damage. Royce, on the other hand, had been blown backward into a wall and was bleeding profusely from his forehead. He breathed heavily and his eyes were half closed due to the blood seeping into them. Trunks walked up to him. "I don't want to kill you," he said with sincerity, "so stay down and I won't have to."

 

Royce seemed to have conceded defeat because he lowered his head and didn't reply. "Lyle won't give up so easily," he said lowly after a moment. Trunks was about to ask who Lyle was when he was blindsided from his right with a heavy hit. The Earthling was sent hurtling to his left and after he crashed through two office walls Trunks stopped himself in mid-air and turned to his right. The third man, the one who did all the talking earlier, whom Trunks now assumed was Lyle, flew straight at him. Trunks caught Lyle's hands in his own and the pair grappled.

 

"Where are the files?" the man asked through gritted teeth as the pair struggled.

 

"If you didn't destroy everything you could have made your own copy," Trunks spat back before he lunged forward and headbutted Lyle square between the eyes. The force of the blow dazed Lyle for a moment for him to both let go of Trunks and float unguarded for just an instant, and that was all Trunks needed.

 

Trunks jammed his right elbow into Lyle's chest, sending him flying backward. Before Lyle hit any debris, Trunks appeared behind him and slammed his left forearm into Lyle's back, effectively stopping his motion. Trunks then slammed his forearm down across Lyle's shoulders and he plunged face-first into the floor, though only enough to have it crack and buckle beneath him. He rolled over and as soon as he did he found a foot pressed to his throat. He looked up at Trunks to see he had injured his opponent, as Trunks had a cut bleeding down the left side of his face, the blood running steady down his face, under his jaw and down his neck until it disappeared underneath his jacket.

 

Trunks pressed a tiny bit harder on Lyle's throat and the man couldn't breathe. He couldn't find the strength to lift his arms in defense, and waited for the stronger man to finish him off. Armada floated over to Trunks's side, clutching the right side of her neck as blood spilled over her fingers and down her armor.

 

"You lost," the woman said through angered eyes. "Don't follow us or we'll kill you." Trunks released his foot on Lyle's throat and the injured man coughed and wheezed for air. Armada nodded to Trunks and the pair flew away.

 

When the pair exited the building in the back alley they heard the sirens of local law enforcement on their way. Armada reached to her belt and grabbed a small black item, then proceeded to toss it to Trunks.

 

"You're driving," she said and headed straight for the passenger side. He saw the wound on her neck better and with the she winced he figured she just wasn't fit to drive at the moment. He ran around to the driver's side and got in.

 

"Hurry up and get us out of here," Armada said and winced as she spoke. He looked confused for a moment, and she realized she needed to instruct him. “Insert the chip into that slot,” she pointed with her left hand at a small rectangular slot near the steering column, “that will allow you to start the vehicle.” He followed her instructions and the engine came to life. She gave a brief explanation of how to accelerate and brake, and after a few seconds Trunks pulled out from their parking spot and continued down the alley until it ran into a major road and he turned right. "When he get down to this intersection, make a left," Armada said as she used both hands now to cover her wound.

 

"Hey, stay awake to give me directions, okay?" Trunks joked in an attempt to lighten up the situation. "We won't make it back if you pass out," he said as he turned his attention back to the road and made a left turn.

 

"Get there fast or else I might," she said in a pained voice.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Back in Ute an hour before dawn, Trunks reached out to help Armada get out of the car but she jerked away from him. "My legs are fine," she said bitterly and flew up to the side of the ship. He'd parked inside the warehouse—there was a small door for the car on the side—and followed her up to the ship.

Once inside she flew straight to the infirmary and he followed her. Under the bright lights she lifted her hands and tried to look at the wound in a mirror but she couldn't see it without pulling too hard to turn her neck and it made the wound bleed more.

 

"Sit down, I'll take care of it," Trunks ordered when he walked in behind her. Armada sat up on the steel surgical table in the center of the room. He walked over and examined the wound as best he could at the moment. She had a deep gash leading down from just under her jaw on the right side of her neck over her shoulder that ended just above her scapular. "It's deep, it'll need stitches," Trunks said as he turned away from her to get supplies.

 

He picked through the cabinets for a needle, surgical thread, antiseptic and a few towels to wipe away the blood. "Take your armor off," he said as he turned around. It seemed she already knew it would be in the way and was working at it. She had both arm guards off and she was struggling with her chest piece so he set the supplies down and moved to help her.

 

"Hold on to the back," she said before she clicked something on her belt and her chest plate came apart underneath both arms, leaving a front piece and back piece. Trunks caught the back piece and set it aside, Armada did the same with the front. He was about to ask about the black fibrous material underneath because he couldn't see a zipper or any sort of fastener when she grimaced before lifting both arms and reaching just under her breasts.

 

Trunks watched in curiosity as she pulled up what had the structure of a shirt over her head. It appeared that the fibrous material was several different pieces, and one place it overlapped was under her breastplate. She pulled it completely off and Trunks could see she wore a black banded bra underneath the armor, and the fibrous material that covered her torso started just under the breasts. He turned his focus back to her wound and saw that it was much worse than he'd initially thought.

 

"Lay down on your stomach," he said as he looked at the wound. She figured as much based on how far down her back the cut went, so she dumped her armor onto the floor and did as told. Trunks worked methodically to clean the wound and began stitching it up from the insert point on her back. After forty minutes he'd made it to the base of her neck and only had another two inches left to stitch shut. He leaned in closer to get a better look but it wasn't helping, with her laying on her stomach the cut was angling away from him. "Turn over," he said and she sat upright. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes and he shrugged and went back to work.

 

Trunks finally finished stitching up the wound entirely after another thirty minutes, trying his best to make it clean and minimize scarring. He was certain that if he had done this more often he'd be quicker at it, but as it stood his skills were what they were. He leaned in close when he cleaned the wound a bit more and examined it closely to make sure everything was as good as he could get it.

 

Armada shuddered almost imperceptibly and her skin started to pimple up. "Goosebumps?" Trunks stood up and looked at her.

 

"You breathed on me," she said flatly and turned her face away from him. From what he could see she didn't appear embarrassed, and he realized that she must have been on her own for some time to have that kind of reaction to him, considering the circumstances. He was going to speak when she stood up from the table and moved around him to a cabinet to his left. She pulled out a bag of red liquid and proceeded to hook it up to a needle and then jab the needle in her right arm.

 

She then grabbed some antiseptic and a few swabs which she placed in her mouth as her hands were full with the blood bag and antiseptic. "Synthetic blood," she said before he could ask. "No need for types or donors." She walked over to a seat at a table in the corner of the infirmary and set her supplies down as she got to work on her smaller wounds, namely the one her face, right elbow, and hands.

Trunks watched her closely for a moment. _How long has she been on her own? What would she have done without me here to stitch up that wound?_ He ignored the lingering thoughts and grabbed a few bandages to take care of his minor wounds, and stood at the counter with his back to her. She was definitely unlike any other person Trunks had met in his life, but he had a lingering feeling that in her case it was a bad thing.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading! If you'd be so kind as to leave some sort of comment I will love you forever. *heart*

 

Silvia

 


	3. Mission 02: Sword-for-Hire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Armada head to the only other nation on Bmyhad, a small troubled country called Juu, to take out a man leading a rebellion effort.

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and all related characters belong to Akira Toriyama and other respective owners.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Three days later Trunks found himself getting into Armada's car again as she rounded the front and got in the driver's side. He adjusted the seat this time and settled in, because they were off to a city just under 400 kilometers away across the border and into the only other country on the continent, Juu. She said she would explain the mission on the way over, so he complied and just went along for the ride, as it were. As they started to pull away, Trunks glanced to his left at Amada's neck, and with her wearing her armor and jacket he couldn't see anything, but she didn't appear to be favoring the injury.

 

While that stab wound wasn't life-threatening, it was significant. He found it interesting that she moved as if it didn't bother her. Perhaps she had taken painkillers, but he doubted it; she didn't seem to be the type. Even if the pain didn't bother her, it was strange that she moved as if she were completely fine. An injury like that would at least affect the movement of her neck and right arm. He turned his gaze outward once more. There was something about her, something more to her than she let on, and he was both curious and worried.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 02: Sword-for-Hire

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada parked the car and turned off the ignition. After a four hour drive, they had arrived at their destination, and she opened her door to get out. Trunks followed suit and the pair found themselves in a city unlike Ute. This city looked more like what Trunks was used to on Earth; it was a bit run-down, dirty, and far behind Ute in the way of technology. They were in the capital city of Juu, the only other country on the continent that shared a small border with western Bmyhad, mostly over a mountain range. As they walked up the steps into the main building, Trunks recalled what Armada told him about their current mission on the drive over.

 

_"In the country bordering Bmyhad, Juu, there's a rebel faction working to overthrow the government. Basically domestic terrorists, since they attack civil servants as well as civilians. Their plan is backfiring and people are fleeing into Bmyhad, but the local government is having trouble wiping them out. We're supposed to go in and take out their leader, along with their base. Local PD will provide more details when we arrive."_

 

Once inside, Armada took her sunglasses off and placed them into a pocket of the cropped black jacket she wore over her armor, and Trunks stopped and stood at her side. Someone waved to the pair and they followed farther into the building, where they were led into a conference room with six other officials inside. Trunks noted as he sat down that two of the men were in uniform, and the others were in more casual suits. The guy who led them inside closed the door behind himself as he left.

 

"Thanks for taking this on," a dark haired man who stood at the end of the long table said wiped at his stubble-covered cheek.

 

Armada shook her head, "Payment is thanks enough."

 

"Quick to get to business," a younger brown-haired man spoke with a smirk, "I like this one."

 

"I thought it was just one," a blond haired man said and looked to his superior, the first to speak. "Why two all of a sudden," he asked with guarded anger.

 

"I hired on a new associate since I took the contract," Armada replied without looking to Trunks who sat on her right.

 

"Doesn't matter," the first officer to talk spoke once more. "I'm Lieutenant Rune and you'll be reporting to me." He pointed to the blond haired man, "That's Sergeant Nadolsky," then to the younger brown-haired man who smirked, "and Sergeant Srinst. The three of us will be your contact points with the department." With that he looked to the other unnamed officers in the room, two in uniform and one in a suit, and they each stood and left. When the room was left to the five of them Lt. Rune walked over to close the blinds so nobody could see into the conference room.

 

Rune nodded to Nadolsky who opened a terminal in front of the two mercenaries. A map of the continent appeared and he immediately zoomed into the northern region of Juu, where the country bordered Bmyhad through a mountain range. "The rebels call themselves Tere," Rune spoke as Nadolsky highlighted a square area on the map. "We've estimated based on their movements that their base is somewhere in this area, about twelve square kilometers."

 

"You can't narrow it down anymore than that?" Trunks asked and turned to Rune.

 

"We're not sure if it's underground or possibly mobile," Srinst answered. "The few times we've had any men make it out there and come back we had conflicting reports on where exactly their base was."

 

"We know it's in this region," Nadolsky reiterated. He zoomed in on the map so they could see only the area they would need to search. "With your abilities it shouldn't take you too long to find it," he finished and turned to Armada.

 

"So that covers the base," Armada summarized while studying the map, "what about their leader?"

 

"He goes by the name Nero, though we don't know what he looks like," Rune broke in again. He turned to face both Armada and Trunks. "He's rumored to be an energy wielder, like you." He paused and took a deep breath. "Which is why we keep losing men when we try to take their fort."

 

"Can't afford the right equipment?" Armada asked. Trunks noted how detached and cold her tone was.

 

"It's still cheaper to hire someone like you ten times over before we could afford any of that," Srinst broke in. "And, as you know, Bmyhad doesn't have anything, or if they do they're not sharing," he added sardonically.

 

"That doesn't matter now," Rune cut off Srinst. He looked to Trunks and then Armada. "We need you to make sure Nero ends up dead, that's the number one priority. Without him the whole thing will fall into disarray." He turned away from them for a moment and looked to Nadolsky. "Taking out their base is a close second. If you can't get Nero, at least destroy facility to slow them down."

 

"If he's there, we'll get him," Armada reassured them and stood.

 

"We'll be dropping you here," Nadolsky zoomed out to show a waypoint on the map, "thirty-six point two kilometers southeast of your destination." He turned to look at Trunks who sat to his left. "The forest here is extremely dense. That coupled with the altitude makes this area avoided by the rebels. You should be able to hike through on foot without risk of exposure," he finished.

 

Srinst held a finger up to his left ear for a moment before he spoke. "Helicopters are ready to roll, sir," he said as he turned to the lieutenant.

 

"If you don't have any questions, Srinst will take you up to the roof where transportation is waiting. By the time you reach the drop point it'll be sundown. Good luck," Rune added before he turned and ran his hand down his face again. Armada and Trunks stood and nodded, then followed Sergeant Srinst out the door.

 

After they left, Nadolsky looked over to his superior. "You think they can do it, sir?"

 

Rune turned to look at Nadolsky. "Do you remember hearing about that weapons factory on the edge of Alliance space a few months back?"

 

"No way," Nadolsky said in disbelief and understanding. "She did that?" He shook his head. "I'm impressed she's not dead yet."

 

"Now you know why I hired her," Rune added with emphasis. If someone could get away with that kind of damage against a serious interstellar mafia, he was fairly certain a few rebels in the woods would prove easy to someone like that. Or at least he hoped.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada stood right at the edge of the open door of the helicopter and kept her right hand glued to a rail just above the door. Her hair whipped in the wind and she yelled to speak to the pilot. "Don't fly too low or they might suspect something," she shouted. "We can take a long drop."

 

"Yes ma'am!" Trunks heard the pilot shout back as they neared their destination. He stood farther back into the vehicle, but the wind tore through and blew his hair all over the place too. Some days he missed when he had it short, but then he'd remember how much he hated the look. He felt the horizontal movement of the helicopter slow down and knew it was about time for them to drop out. He took a few steps over to where Armada stood and reached up for the railing she held on to as well.

 

"Here's your stop!" the pilot yelled over the sound of the engines and wind. Armada looked to Trunks and nodded before she casually let go of the railing she held and stepped out of the vehicle as if she were walking normally. She let herself fall feet-first, and Trunks hovered out of the helicopter and slowly descended.

 

His comrade hit the ground before he did by just a few seconds. They both turned to watch the helicopter fly away, though they could barely see it in the darkness of night—the pilot had turned off all the lights so they could get in completely dark. Trunks turned his attention back to his comrade to see her pull something from her belt that looked about six inches long and three inches wide. She flipped open the device to reveal a screen and a keyboard. On it he could see the map from earlier when they were briefed on the mission.

 

"Good job on his part, we're in the right spot," Armada said as she tilted the screen so Trunks could see better. "I suspect they thought we might walk, which is why they don't think we'll have a lot of time. However," she continued as she looked up in the direction they would be traveling, "we'll save a lot of time if we fly and then we'll have more time for recon." She shut the item and hung it on the back of her belt again, just a bit to the right of center.

 

"Let's go," Armada said rather flatly before she took off at a leisurely flying pace. Trunks figured she didn't want to create too much of a wake as they flew to disturb the surrounding areas—animals would flee and blow their cover. It took a little under ten minutes for them to reach their destination, and they softly landed in the woods and approached slightly closer on foot.

 

"You see it?" Armada asked quietly as she moved to stand next to a tree, putting fifteen feet between the pair.

 

"Yeah," Trunks replied as he stood by another tree as well. About one kilometer away he could see what looked like some type of bunker poking up from the ground. Trees and other foliage were growing from the top of the bunker, which was probably one reason it was so hard to find. That, and from their conversation earlier with Rune and the other officers he figured they just weren't funded enough to have the technology to locate something like this.

 

The pair stood and watched for close to an hour; Trunks kept track on his watch. In that time they saw a handful of people trickle in and out, but nothing major. Another hour passed with no activity and Trunks figured since it was getting later into the night the members of the group were probably sleeping. He heard Armada shift her weight on her feet and glanced over to her. He saw her putting a small set of binoculars away on the back side of her belt.

 

"Looks like there are a few emergency exits on the top of the bunker," Armada said and turned to face Trunks, "so that's probably our best way in." She nodded to him before she began to float above the ground a few inches, just enough to clear the low brush in the forest. Trunks mimicked her movements, and the pair flew toward the complex.

 

One they reached the bunker and floated up to the top they both landed very delicately on the surface. The roof of the base was covered in all kinds of overgrowth, but Armada seemed to know where she was headed. She knelt down and started tearing away vines and moss to reveal one of the emergency exits she spoke of only moments before. She studied it for a moment, since it was meant to be opened from the inside. Trunks was about to ask what they should do when she reached for two sides of the small door and began to pull at it. Within a few seconds the door came loose and she pulled it open gingerly. She pushed the door all the way open and floated down into the structure, and Trunks followed right behind her.

 

Inside they found themselves standing in the middle of a long corridor with dim lighting along the corners in the ceiling. Trunks studied their surroundings; everything was made with plated metal but a lot of it was rusted or in disrepair. Then again he figured a rebel group probably didn't have a lot of funds or other resources to keep the place in top condition.

 

"This isn't going to work," Armada shook her head and turned to Trunks.

 

"What do you mean?" he near-whispered as she did when she spoke to him.

 

"We don't know who Nero is," she stated flatly. "And look at this place," she motioned around herself, "they're not very organized so it won't be obvious."

 

"You don't sound that worried," Trunks started thoughtfully. "You have a plan," he stated rather than asked.

 

"You're a bounty hunter, and you chased me all the way out here," she began telling him her plan. "I broke in, you followed me. We'll stage a fight, you'll capture me, and with their attention you'll offer to hand me over as a sign of good faith that you're not here for them." Her gaze fell as she thought for a moment. "If they buy it, it should give us enough time to figure out who their leader is."

 

"What if they don't buy it?" Trunks asked the obvious question.

 

"We'll have to fight our way out," she said with dissatisfaction. It wasn't the ideal plan, but that's what contingency plans were for.

 

Armada turned her gaze away from Trunks. "Don't hold back," she said as she looked down the end of the hall.

 

"What?" he blinked.

 

She turned to look him in the eyes again. "It has to be believable, so we both have to look a little roughed up." Trunks looked at her in curiosity when she lunged at him. He jumped backward just in time to miss her punch and she suddenly used her energy to fly after him.

 

He turned and flew away from her, down a few corridors with her hot on his heels. "You're supposed to be chasing me!" she shouted as they flew. Realizing she was right, he immediately stopped, turned, and swung with his right fist for her face. He saw her eyes widen in shock and she couldn't stop herself in time. His fist connected and sent her flying backward to the end of the hall where her back smacked into the metal wall before she bounced off slightly and fell to the floor.

 

 _Shit,_ Trunks cursed mentally as he looked at his comrade down the hall. She wiped at blood seeping from her mouth. He hadn't meant to hit her that hard, but then again he wasn't sure exactly how strong she was to know right where to reign in his own abilities. Not to mention that it'd been a few years since he had a fight or even sparred with anyone. Sometimes he forgot his own strength.

 

She took off and flew at him faster than before and started swinging. He easily dodged and blocked all of her punches, and after a moment she jumped back and fired an energy blast at him. Trunks swatted it away with his left forearm, and it blew into a side wall causing a huge explosion. The sounds of footsteps and shouting greeted the pair, and Armada smirked at Trunks. He smiled in response before he flew after her once more.

 

He decided to throw his punches this time, and Armada blocked six of them in a row with her armored forearms before he faked a punch with his left and used his right hand to grab a hold of her arm. He spun them around in the hallway and used her arm like a piece of rope to throw her over his head and down into the ground. She landed on her back and the impact created a dent in the metal flooring. He put his left foot down across her neck but didn't press; he just needed it to look like he had her dead-to-rights.

 

The pair was in the middle of an intersection of two hallways and people started pouring in on their location, guns drawn and pointed. Trunks kept his eyes locked with Armada's and the pair didn't move as the shouts around them grew louder.

 

"What the hell is going on?!" Trunks heard a male voice scream. His head snapped up to the direction the shout came from as everyone else fell silent. People parted the way for the man to walk though and he made it to the front of the crowd, standing only two meters away from Trunks. He was six feet tall with dark brown hair shorn down to a few centimeters, and dark eyes—Trunks couldn't tell the color. "You have three seconds to explain why we shouldn't kill you," the man said and narrowed his eyes.

 

"Sorry," Trunks said and pretended to be out of breath. "I was chasing my latest bounty when she broke in here so I followed her," he motioned to the woman beneath his foot as he still held on to her left forearm with his right hand. "Honestly from the outside the place looked abandoned," he added with a glance to his right.

 

"A likely story," the man spat. He opened his mouth and turned back a bit, about to bark out an order to the men behind him with guns when Trunks cut him off.

 

"Come on," Trunks bit back with a cocky attitude that surprised even himself. "I'm just trying to get paid, no need for that," he nodded toward the minions armed to the teeth behind the lone man who stood without a weapon. Everyone stared at Trunks as he wracked his brain for what to do next. "Don't believe me? Check the bounty on her," he assured them. "Her name's Armada. I'll be set for a few years with this one," he tacked on at the end. Part of him really hoped she had a bounty and it was high enough for them to buy his story.

 

"I don't buy it," a taller man with more muscle spoke from Trunks's left. He was holding a large assault rifle and he turned to look at the man Trunks was speaking to. "He sounds like he's full of shit."

 

"All bounty hunters are, Lavelle," the man in charge responded with disdain. He seemed to be mulling it over so Trunks figured now he should try and sweeten the deal for them.

 

"Look," Trunks began and caught their attention again, "I'll let you guys hold on to her until you confirm the bounty," he tugged on her arm for emphasis, "and when everything checks out I leave with my newest pay check in tow."

 

"And if it doesn't check out?" the man named Lavelle asked in disdain.

 

"We'll just kill them both," the other man supplied with a crooked smirk. "Detain her," he ordered with a nod and several people from all sides around Trunks closed in. He released Armada's arm and removed his foot from her neck as the minions closed in. Two of them grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet before they spun her around to hold her hands behind her back as they put shackles on them.

  
Lavelle, who was wearing what appeared to be the pants he slept in and nothing else, like much of the rebels, walked up to Armada and grabbed her hair at the scalp on the back of her head. He jerked her head back to crane her neck up at him and smirked. Armada glared at him before he released her hair. "Pathetic," he said with disgust. "Take her to the jail," he shouted and the men who had restrained her dragged her off behind Trunks.

 

The man who first showed any signs of authority approached Trunks as the rest of the rebels fell into step and moved out of the area. "What's your name, bounty hunter?" he asked with distrust in his eyes.

 

"Trunks," the Earthling replied honestly. No point in making up a name as they might call for him and he could forget his fake name.

 

"Nero," the man nodded to Trunks in return as he pursed his lips. "Our communications are all done via satellite, and it won't be in range for another two hours," he continued. "We'll have to wait a bit before we can verify your story," Nero turned to Lavelle who stood at his right, then looked back at Trunks. "I hope you don't mind staying near Lavelle and myself in the meantime," Nero continued with a glare. Trunks knew it wasn't a proposition, but rather an order.

 

Lavelle raised his assault rifle to point it at Trunks once again. "Let's go," Lavelle said as Nero turned and headed back down the hall from which he first came. Trunks fell in step behind Nero and Lavelle followed behind, gun pointed only inches from Trunks's spine.

 

 _We know who Nero is_ , Trunks thought, _but now what?_ He gave himself time to consider the options because, as Nero said, they had a few hours before they would believe him anyway, which meant he would be cooped up with Lavelle's gun pointed at him in the meantime. That gave him some time to think up a plan. He only hoped one came to him before they released Armada back into his custody, or they'd be going with plan B which was guaranteed to be messy.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada was pushed from behind into the small jail cell, and she kept up the act and stumbled forward before she caught her balance and turned around. "Behave and we won't have to shoot you," one of the men who closed the barred gates behind her laughed.

 

"I'd rather just shoot her anyway," one of the women with a large assault rifle similar to Lavelle's said and looked to the prison guard.

 

"We gotta wait until the boss says we can," the man sighed in disappointment. The rest of the group started to file out. "Shouldn't be more than two hours though." He turned to look at Armada when he noticed she was watching him. "That's right, we're gonna kill you shortly so you might want to take what little time you have left to piss yourself," he laughed.

 

"I call dibs on shooting the bitch," the female guard smirked slightly at Armada. "She interrupted a good night's sleep."

 

"Don't get trigger happy," the man walked away from the cell. "We wait for orders."

 

"Yeah yeah," the woman fell into step behind him. Within a few seconds they disappeared around a corner and Armada heard another set of gates close behind them. She walked over to the metal bench in the cell and sat down. _Trunks, you better be as smart as I hope you are,_ she thought with a large sigh. He made the right call about there being a bounty out there for her, she was certain there was one from a while back and the reward was pretty steep. She just hoped he played along just long enough for them to get out, get the leader, and level the place. She wasn't fast enough to dodge bullets from the guns this group was carrying, especially in narrow spaces. And she didn't think he'd be able to, either.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks looked up from where he sat to Lavelle once more. Trunks wasn't restrained but the rebel still clung tightly to his assault rifle and stared down the mercenary from his post by the door. Trunks turned his gaze away once more and glanced at his watch. It had been almost three hours and still no word from anyone about the bounty. He wondered if they even bothered to check and just planned on killing him and Armada, or killing him and turning her in for the bounty themselves, if she had one.

 

They may have had conventional weaponry but Trunks wasn't scared of that in the least—he knew his own abilities, even if he assumed their guns fired like the ones on Earth. The real question for him was Armada; could she survive in the time it would take him to get to her? The handcuffs they placed on her looked easily breakable with her strength, but who knew if she could get away from close-quarters gunfire. He had to wait until they were together again before he did anything, otherwise she wouldn't be safe. And while Trunks wasn't exactly excited about his current situation in life, he wouldn't allow himself to leave her to die.

 

The door to the room swung open and another rebel walked in. "Lavelle, Nero wants to see him," the young man said and motioned toward Trunks. Lavelle nodded and turned to Trunks. The mercenary stood and followed the unnamed rebel and again Lavelle followed behind with his rifle pointed in the middle of Trunks's back.

 

A few minutes later they walked into a much larger and open area that Trunks immediately identified as a control center. Monitors lined one wall with terminals and individual consoles around the room. In the middle was a long rectangular table and Nero stood near it as the group approached. Trunks stopped a few feet from Nero; he knew when to stop because Lavelle jabbed the barrel of his gun into the Earthling's back to indicate he should stop. Trunks looked up to Nero who was now fully dressed in some light leather plate armor over his chest and one shoulder.

 

"You were telling the truth," Nero started. "But the conditions of the deal have changed," he said bitterly.

 

"Why is that?" Trunks's eyes narrowed at Nero. While he and Armada had both kept their energy masked to very low levels, Trunks could sense that Nero was starting to increase his. Lavelle still stood behind him with his assault rifle aimed at Trunks so he knew he had to be cautious.

 

"We need money to run our operation," Nero started to walk leisurely to Trunks's right. The demi-Saiyan's eyes followed closely as the rebel leader moved. "Just as anyone would," Nero stopped walking and looked to Trunks. "So we're going to turn in the mercenary for the bounty. And you're," Nero paused and charged a ki blast around his right fist, "going to leave."

 

"That doesn't work for me," Trunks replied as he watched Nero closely. If he was trying to intimidate Trunks, then the rebel leader was sorely mistaken. "I did all the work and you guys take the reward?" Trunks asked in disgust. "I don't think so."

 

Just as Trunks finished speaking, Nero fired. Trunks easily dodged and Lavelle was hit with the blast in the chest instead. As Lavelle fell backward his hands clenched on his gun and the assault rifle started firing. Trunks was already out of the way but Nero couldn't move as fast, and was shot three times across his left shoulder. Trunks turned and charged at Nero; he landed a painful right hook in the rebel's face. Nero flew backward into several consoles behind himself and left a dent in the metal from the impact. He coughed up blood and Trunks approached slowly.

 

Nero looked up to Trunks and was about to say something when Trunks silenced him permanently with another energy blast. Nero was dead, so part one of their mission was accomplished. Trunks heard shouts from farther in the building and turned toward them. They probably knew what had happened by now and were mobilizing. He took off flying out of the room and down the halls toward where he sensed his comrade.

 

 

-+-

 

 

"What?!" Armada heard one of the male voices scream. She stood up from where she sat and moved toward the barred door. Several people came running in to where her cell was, including the woman from a few hours ago who had wanted to shoot her.

 

"You bitch!" she screamed and raised her weapon, ready to fire.

 

"No!" another man Armada had not seen before ran in and put his hands on the barrel of her weapon to push it down. "She's not with the bounty hunter, and if we shoot her now we won't get the reward," he said with authority.

 

Armada knew it was time to roll, as she felt Trunks closing in on her location—after she sensed Nero fire at him. She narrowed her eyes at the woman who so desperately wanted to kill her. "Hey," she called out.

 

"What?!" the woman snarled and snapped her head around to Armada.

 

"Actually," Armada began while she discreetly broke her handcuffs apart behind her back. "I am with the mercenary," her eyes narrowed. The woman was shocked and went to fire her gun, but she was too slow. Armada immediately fired energy from both hands and wiped out both people standing in front of her cell, as well as the bars that were in her way.

 

Trunks flew in just as Armada stepped out of her cell. She looked over to him, "We've gotta get out of here." He nodded and the pair took off flying down the corridors again until they reached the highest level in the bunker once more. Armada stopped in a hallway and blew a hole through the roof of the bunker which revealed the night sky above. Plants and debris fell inside but it didn't matter, and the pair flew outside.

 

They continued up into the sky until they hovered a kilometer above their target. Armada glanced to Trunks and then charged up her aura around her. She turned and fired on the bunker below with both arms outstretched. Trunks was shocked by the amount of energy she fired; it was plenty to destroy the bunker but he was impressed with her strength, though she was still a far cry from his own, not that she would know that. She stopped firing and reached behind her back to pull out the small locator device she had used earlier.

 

Armada flipped it open and zoomed out on their previous map so she could see all of Juu. She closed the lid and looked to Trunks. "It shouldn't take more than an hour to fly back, if you can keep up," she said dismissively. Trunks wondered if she know how easy it was for him and was just joking, or if she was serious. Either way, she took off and he followed quickly after.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Back at police headquarters in the city, Trunks and Armada sat at the same conference table they were at the night before, with the same three officers they had originally sat with. "Good work," Lieutenant Rune said as he tossed a few bank cards down to the table in front of Armada. She reached forward and gathered the three cards into her hands before she placed them in a jacket pocket.

 

"How do we know Nero is dead?" Nadolsky asked. It was a valid question, there was no way for them to know.

 

"Doesn't matter," Rune broke in. "She accepted a lower pay scale in advance so that if she didn't get one or the other we wouldn't lose out." Trunks was surprised, it seemed a little strange for a mercenary to do such a thing.

 

"Oh, someone has a sense of honor, huh?" Srinst asked with a smirk. Armada didn't answer him and stood from her seat. "Hey, where are you going?" Srinst lost his sarcastic tone.

 

"They're free to go," Rune broke in. "Take care of yourselves," Rune threw in as Trunks stood and the pair headed out. Trunks wondered why the lieutenant would bother saying something relatively caring but dismissed the thought quickly as he followed Armada outside.

 

They quickly arrived at the car and got in. Armada started the vehicle and spoke as she pulled out into traffic, "We'll grab something to eat then head out," she said without looking to her comrade.

 

"How much money did we make?" Trunks asked. She never did tell him from when she first mentioned the mission, and the officers didn't mention a number either.

 

"Three hundred thousand beta," Armada replied flatly as she glanced to her left before making a right turn.

 

 _Three hundred thousand?_ Trunks thought in shock. Then again, they did a huge job, but he remembered them talking about how equipment would cost several times that. He wasn't sure what that conversation was about but he intended to find out. "When you mentioned yesterday that the police couldn't afford the right equipment, what did you mean?" Trunks asked.

 

"Seriously?" Armada glanced to him briefly before she turned her eyes to the road.

 

"What?" Trunks was insulted. "I don't know everything," he added sourly.

 

"What stops people like you and me from destroying everything in our way, and killing anyone who opposes us?" She didn't look at him because she was focused on the road but Trunks was stunned into silence. "What stops us from enslaving everyone else with the threat of death?" She paused and made a left turn at a light.

 

"The technology exists to suppress the manifestation and use of energy," she continued without looking to Trunks. Her eyes flashed to her right to glance at him briefly before she spoke once more. "It's hard to manufacture. It's expensive. But it works," she explained. "Some governments can afford it, and some can't. Some areas of the universe are safer than others," she finished.

 

Trunks sat back in his seat and thought about what she said. So it wasn't like Earth, where he could literally take control of everything if he wanted. Hell, the androids weren't any different, as they did exactly that. So in this more developed area of the universe, governments could keep people like him in line, because they did have ways of suppressing their power. In that case, that meant there were a lot more people out there like himself and Armada, people who could use ki. He had an ominous feeling that things weren't going to be as easy as he originally hoped.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading!

 

Silvia

 

 


	4. Mission 03: Escort Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Armada accept a job to escort a prisoner back to his homeworld to face his punishment. Unfortunately for them, the prisoner won't shut up...

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks used a pair of long metal tweezers to pull out the stitches in Armada's neck. She sat perfectly still and didn't even flinch as he worked, and he was slightly impressed. Several days after he'd put the stitches in she had healed magnificently, and barely had a scar considering how long and deep the cut was. After a few more minutes, he finished taking the stitches out and she gingerly ran her right hand over the scar.

 

“All done,” Trunks turned around to gather all the discarded materials to throw away.

 

“There's barely a scar,” she said thoughtfully as she continued to feel the injury with her right hand. “With a bit more medication it'll be nearly invisible,” she finished and stood up from where she sat on the surgical table in the center of the room.

 

Trunks moved to throw away the garbage and turned to face Armada. “I left some bandages and the medication on the counter for you,” he said while she had her back to him. She grabbed her shirt and pulled it on over her head before she turned to face him. She nodded and moved to the counter to dress her wound, and Trunks left the infirmary.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 03: Escort Service

 

 

-+-

 

 

Several hours later, Trunks waited at the the door to the ship for Armada. She soon exited her room down the hall and approached. She was in her armor with the black jacket on top and a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes. She nodded to him before she opened the door and flew down to the ground floor of the warehouse. He followed close behind as they packed into the black car again and pulled off.

 

Trunks already knew what they were doing this time; they were headed to local police headquarters in Ute to pick up a prisoner and transfer him to another country, on another planet in another system. With their last payday, Armada had the ship refueled so they could now take jobs off-world. She said that she didn't want to leave Ute permanently until she had more in the bank and Trunks was secretly grateful. He didn't want to relocate from Bmyhad where he knew how to get home—the jump gate was the only way he knew how to find Earth. He really had no idea where in the galaxy they were, just that it was closer to the center of the Milky Way and a long haul from the Sol system.

 

It was only a matter of minutes before they arrived, and Armada pulled around the back of the building to park in a specified area. When they got out of the car, several officers were standing and waiting. Two stood to secure the area around the vehicle to make sure nothing funny was going on while a third opened a large metal door for them to enter the building.

 

It took a few minutes to get through security, as they had to wait their turn. Trunks followed Armada through what he guessed was some type of scanner, presumably for concealed weapons but then again, he had no idea what else they could detect. Once they were through the scanner, another officer gave them red wrist bands. Trunks had seen everyone else that went through had blue wrist bands, and a few green, but no red. He wondered if they knew he could control life energy, and that's why the mercenary pair were tagged with the bright red bands.

 

A young uniformed officer approached the pair and stopped in front of them. “Officer Tellman,” he said and turned away from the pair. “This way please,” he stated flatly. Armada immediately followed and Trunks fell into step behind her.

 

“The prisoner is not to be underestimated,” Tellman said as they walked. Trunks closed the gap between himself and Armada and walked beside her, just behind the officer so he could hear better. “He's not like you but he's still extremely dangerous,” Tellman continued. They stopped at a door and he entered in a number on a keypad nearby and the metal door opened for them. Armada took initiative and headed inside, Trunks followed after her and Tellman behind them both.

 

Trunks noticed they were walking down a hall of cells, some occupied and some not. They all had transparent front walls that looked like glass, but he knew better. Glass would be far too easy to break so it had to be some other material he wasn't familiar with. Trunks wondered, if they knew he and Armada were ki-fighters, then they must have had ways to house prisoners with those abilities. So how could any material keep them captive? He remembered the conversation he had with Armada, about how there were ways to restrict ki usage, but he didn't see any obvious way to do it.

 

Two officers stood in front of a cell and Armada stopped next to them when the pair approached. “Detective Neiman,” the much older man of the pair introduced himself tersely. He had clearly graying hair and some unruly stubble, but Trunks figured that wasn't too far off from what old cops looked like back at home—or at least how they appeared in old movies.

 

“This is Lieutenant Strife,” he motioned to the younger man next to him. The lieutenant appeared to be middle-aged as well, just not as old as Neiman. Or maybe just not as worn out.

 

“There he is,” the detective motioned to the lone prisoner in this cell. Trunks and Armada turned to look, and Trunks was a bit unimpressed. He looked like the average person, not much older than Trunks himself and the guy had an athletic build. Why hire mercenaries for something that seemed to mundane?

 

The subject in question stood from where he sat, he already had his arms cuffed in front of him. He walked up to the clear wall and looked at the two mercenaries. “Only two guards?” he said with a smirk. “I'm sad, I was hoping it was a bigger deal for all the talk of hiring a _private contractor_ ,” he emphasized the last two words as if mocking them. When he reached the end of the cell Trunks could see his piercing green eyes and black hair. Something about his eyes was... strange, to put it lightly.

 

“Don't take him lightly,” Lieutenant Strife finally spoke. “He's a trained spy. Deception and misdirection are all he knows,” the officer glanced to the prisoner in question.

 

“Oh come on,” the spy rolled his eyes. “I know a lot more stuff than that!”

 

Detective Neiman pulled out a small datapad and loaded a file. He passed the device to Armada and Trunks looked over her shoulder to get a glance at it as well. “His name is Nassas Reine,” Neiman began as the mercenaries read. “We've negotiated his transfer to another nation where he is wanted for several crimes. You'll be taking him to Hrimth, Taydr, and you are expected to arrive in three days. The exact time and location of the drop off are in the file,” Neiman motioned toward the datapad in Armada's hands, “and that's yours to keep.”

 

Armada studied the file a moment longer before she looked up to the detective. “Are there any special precautions we need to take?” she asked.

 

“Whatever he says, don't listen to him,” Lieutenant Strife spoke once more. “With that silver tongue of his,” he glanced to the prisoner and then back to Armada, “he can convince people to open the cell and let him walk out of the front door.”

 

“Aw, I'm flattered Strife,” Nassas said with sarcasm. “But I don't swing that way. Well, not when I'm sober,” he laughed.

 

The lieutenant rolled his eyes and Trunks sighed. _This_ was going to be one fun mission.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Are you sure I'm secure?” Nassas asked as he looked up to Armada. “Maybe you should double check all these locks,” he said and looked down to his shackles. He was sitting in a chair in the lounge with both arms cuffed to each arm of the chair, his hands still cuffed together in front of him, and both feet shackled and bound to the chair as well.

 

“We both know you're not going anywhere,” Armada said and walked away toward the bridge.

 

Nassas looked over to the only other person in the room. “No,” Trunks shook his head, “don't even look this direction.”

 

Nassas smirked. “I was only going to ask if you two were an item, because it'd be that much more fun to” he never got to finish as he was cut off by Trunks.

 

“You can give up on the psychological warfare,” Trunks interrupted the prisoner. “Neither one of us is going to fall for it, so just settle in for your trip,” he finished before he turned and headed for the bridge.

 

Armada was already at the main console and setting up the ship for launch. Trunks took a seat to her left as another console. “So how long are we going to keep him like that?” he asked. The trip was going to take almost three and a half days, obviously they couldn't keep him pinned down in a chair like that the entire time.

 

“Just until we're out of the gravity well and auto-pilot can safely take over,” Armada said without turning her attention away from her work. “We'll lock him up in the unused bunk since there's nothing in there for him to get into, and he'll have his own bathroom so we don't have to worry about that,” she added. With a few more button presses the engines powered up and Trunks could feel the ship come to life under his feet.

 

Armada turned her chair to face Trunks. “We'll have to take him meals, but that won't be a problem,” she said and paused for a moment. Trunks thought she looked like she was contemplating something. “He can't overpower either of us,” she added.

 

“What's up?” Trunks asked. She looked like she had something on her mind.

 

“There's something going on,” Armada added. “I can't figure out exactly what, but as long we're vigilant we should be alright.” She turned back to the console and continued preparing for launch.

 

“I'll see if our friend doesn't know anything,” Trunks smirked. “He seems to be the type who can't stop talking, even if nobody's listening.” He headed back to the lounge where they had him tied down to a chair.

 

“Change your mind?” Nassas said with his head down. He slowly looked up to Trunks and smirked.

 

“No, you're not my type,” Trunks joked back with a sour smile. He walked over and had a seat in the corner booth on the other side of the doorway to the infirmary from where their captive sat. “So what'd you do to end up arrested?”

 

“I was too good looking,” Nassas flashed a smile showing his teeth.

 

“Seems like you can't do your job,” Trunks prodded at Nassas's ego a bit. If he was the vain and self-absorbed type, like he seemed so far, then he wouldn't like to be insulted.

 

Nassas turned away and pouted. “You don't have a clue what I can do,” he said bitterly, half-joking and half-serious.

 

Trunks stood and leaned over to the prisoner's face, and stared him straight in the eyes. “But who's chained down to a chair, and who isn't?” he whispered, adding some spite to get under Nassas's skin.

 

Reine dropped the act and stared back with anger evident in his eyes. “For now,” he drawled slowly. “But you mercenaries aren't the brightest bunch, which is why guys like me have to clean up your messes,” he finished with bile in his voice.

 

Trunks stood back and closed his eyes briefly and smirked. “Right, guys like you,” he opened his eyes. “So what are you, a spy?”

 

“A master of espionage,” Nassas ground out. “Unlike idiots like you who always go in guns blazing, tripping over your feet,” he continued. “I have skills and finesse.”

 

Trunks shrugged, “Whatever you say, buddy.” With that he turned and walked back into the bridge. Armada was still flying the ship manually and he could that they were slowly pulling from the gravity well. Armada must have noticed as well because she turned on the artificial gravity and Trunks felt his feet settle against the cold steel floor once more.

 

“Anything interesting?” she asked without turning to face him.

 

“He's arrogant, and self-absorbed,” Trunks said casually as if he was talking about what he ate for breakfast instead of a quick psychological profile of their charge. “Some sort of spy, by the way he talks,” he added. Armada nodded and kept her gaze focused on the task before her. Trunks turned and headed back toward his room to get a little rest before they had to move one Nassas Reine into his own quarters.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Nassas laid back lazily in one of the three beds in the room he'd been sequestered to. His back, or more accurately his shoulders were against the wall and his right leg hung over the edge of the bed, his left propped up on it. He'd already done his thorough search of the room, for anything he could make use of, but there was nothing. Whoever this pair was that had him and were taking him back home, they knew their stuff. All Nassas Reine knew for certain was that for the next few days he was going to be bored out of his mind.

 

The door to his prison suddenly opened and Reine jumped to sit upright. He saw the woman walk in with a tray of food in her hands. “You've come to eat with me?” he said with a large smile.

 

She walked over and set the tray down on the other end of bed he was sitting on. “I'll be back for the tray,” she said in a low growl before she turned to leave.

 

“Don't leave so quickly now!” Reine exclaimed and jumped up. He reached for her arm and just caught her right elbow in his left hand. Shocked by his audacity, Armada spun around faster than Reine thought possible and hit him with her left-handed fist square in the middle of his chest. He flew backwards and his back bounced against the edge of the bed before he fell to the floor in a heap.

 

“That hurt you stupid bitch!” he shouted up at her as his hands went to his chest and gingerly touched his wound.

 

Armada reached down and grabbed him by the collar of his black suit, and lifted him to her eye level. “I could kill you if I felt like it,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “The only reason I don't is that I'd rather make money instead of dump a body in the middle of space,” she elaborated. She dropped him and he fell to the ground again.

 

“Don't think for a second you can touch me,” she spat at him before she swung around on her heel and walked out of the room. The door closed behind her and Nassas heard it lock. He narrowed his eyes at where she had retreated and still kept a hand clasped over his chest where she'd hit him. He knew that feeling, and that was no normal punch—she was an energy fighter. Well, that made things a _lot_ more interesting.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada stepped outside the room and reached back to the wall with her left hand to close the door. She was unnerved to see Trunks standing in the hall, waiting for her. “You okay?” he asked with eyes that let her know that he knew precisely what happened.

 

“I'm fine,” she said and dropped her gaze as she strode past him. She let her anger get the best of her and her energy flared slightly when she punched him. What surprised her was how attune Trunks was to this, to notice and ask her if things were all right. Well if he was that adept at sensing ki, then she didn't need to tell him anything. Not that she wanted to admit to losing her temper anyway.

 

Trunks wasn't naïve. He could feel the anger radiating off of Armada in waves when she walked past him. He could also feel the rage in the rise of her energy briefly when she hit their prisoner. She had an issue with anger that she was working to control, but Trunks wondered what had Nassas done to push past her control? From what he'd seen of her so far she seemed to wear some outer veneer to keep herself protected, to keep herself in check. He'd have to spend more time with their captive to figure out just how he'd managed to nearly get himself killed.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Three hours after that little incident, Armada was sleeping—or at least appeared to be sleeping—in the pilot's chair on the bridge. She hadn't gone back to retrieve the tray of food she'd given to Nassas, and she hadn't said one word since she left his room earlier. Trunks was concerned, but more interested in what exactly their prisoner had done to raise his partner's ire.

 

After giving a courtesy knock, Trunks opened the door to the captive spy's room and saw Nassas Reine sitting on the floor with empty dishes on a tray sitting next to him. He glanced up lazily, “Oh. Wasn't really expecting anyone to come back tonight,” he admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

 

Trunks stepped into the room and the door shut automatically behind him. “Your girlfriend really packs a punch,” Nassas looked up to Trunks and laughed. Trunks could tell he wasn't trying to pull anything, just make a joke.

 

The mercenary nodded and gave a half-smile, “You should have just behaved.” He cleared the distance between the pair and sat down next to Nassas, his back against the edge of the lower bunk, the tray of empty dishes separating the pair. “So what'd you do and how'd you get caught?” Trunks asked, honestly trying to drum up conversation. There weren't really any spies on Earth growing up, considering humanity was united against one enemy who wouldn't talk to any other humans long enough to have a conversation beyond a few insults. Sure he'd seen old movies and such, but what did real spies _really_ do?

 

“Ahhh,” Nassas said like he was remembering something particularly embarrassing, “I screwed up.” He lifted his right leg and pulled it up to his chest, then he rested his right hand on his knee. “We,” he paused as he looked at Trunks. “My team,” he started over, “we had to get some intel at a political gala,” he laughed. “Bunch of dignitaries getting drunk and dancing horribly, really,” Nassas rolled his eyes. He looked at the floor in front of him, taking his eyes away from Trunks. “Got busted when the woman I was dancing with found my knife,” he said and motioned to the empty sheath on his right thigh.

 

“Dancing?” Trunks asked with a hint of mirth. With where that knife was hiding, it must have been _some_ kind of dance.

 

“Hey, I'm a professional,” Nassas replied and motioned with his right hand toward his chest. “It's not my fault if the target gets grabby.”

 

“So what happens when we drop you off?” Trunks asked earnestly.

 

“Probably get thrown in prison for the rest of my life,” Nassas sat back and let his head fall against the mattress of the bottom bunk he was leaned against. “Or executed. Depends on who bought me.”

 

“We're heading to a planet called Taydr,” Trunks said the name slowly, still unsure of how to pronounce it. There was something funny with how everyone said the ending, with a rolled 'r' and a very short 'ah' sound.

 

Nassas laughed. “I'm in deep shit then.” A silence descended between the pair for a moment before the spy spoke once more. “What about you?” he asked before he turned his head slightly so he could look over at Trunks. “Why are you with her,” he made a slight motion with his head, “of all people?”

 

Trunks sighed. “To repay a debt I owe,” he said honestly. He wasn't lying, but he didn't want to say any more than that.

 

“Good luck,” Nassas said almost under his breath. He turned his head and stared up at the ceiling again, adding, “You don't know what you've gotten yourself into.” Trunks opened his mouth to speak but Nassas kept going. “Why is it that when we meet people we always give them the benefit of the doubt?” he asked with a certain philosophical annoyance about it. He looked over at Trunks again, “We don't know what they were doing five minutes before we met them, but we always seem to assume everyone has a clean slate, when we _know_ that nobody does.” He laughed and rolled his head away from Trunks, so the mercenary couldn't even see the corner of his eyes. “You're an idiot,” he added almost inaudibly.

 

Trunks nodded to himself and then stood. He reached down to pick up the tray of dishes and moved for the door. After he opened the door, Trunks turned to the spy known as Nassas Reine to add one final thought. “But who's the one getting sold off to the highest bidder?” He didn't wait for a snappy response and simply turned and left, the door shutting and locking behind him.

 

 

-+-

 

 

That night Trunks didn't sleep. He sat in the lounge, sitting at an angle in one corner so he could see through the doorway to the bridge and see the left side of Armada sitting in the pilot's seat. He wasn't going to let the spy get to him, but he did bring up a good point. Trunks had no idea who Armada was. When they met, she was willing to kill a kid who had nothing to do with anything, over some money. Granted he learned later it was a lot of money she'd lost earlier that day, but that could hardly be blamed on Murtole, of all people. The poor kid barely saw the sun—well, whatever star was the center of that system, he couldn't remember.

 

There was one thought Trunks couldn't shake. What _was_ Armada doing five minutes before she ran into him? Besides chasing the guy who robbed her. Not that it was the five minutes themselves that determined life and death, but the thought still stood. Everyone had a past, and Trunks was taught not to judge too harshly on the mistakes people had made in their lives—Kami knows he's made plenty of his own. But what about judging someone's present? Who they are in the here and now? What if Armada was on 'good behavior' to keep him around? What if she'd just slaughtered some poor innocent fool not even hours before they met? He hadn't been with her long, and they had fought for their lives, but she didn't seem... _malicious_. Then again, how much did he really know? She hardly spoke, and she never talked about herself. Of course he didn't either, so was it fair to judge? Maybe not judge, but... just be concerned.

 

In the pilot's chair, in front of the main console while the ship was on autopilot, Armada sat stoically and watched their progress. She knew her comrade was staring; she could feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of her head. She had felt his eyes on her more than usual after he'd gone to see Reine when he thought she was asleep, and she knew the spy had gotten to him.

 

Of course, when one had as much to hide as she did, it was easy to turn anyone against her.

 

  
-+-

 

 

Two agonizingly long days were down, and the group had just over a day left to arrive at their destination. Trunks had stayed away from Armada as much as he could, avoided conversation, and generally was more observant of her movements. It was driving the mercenary crazy. She wasn't blind, she knew what he was doing. She didn't talk much but he wasn't a good liar, in his speech or his movements, and she knew when someone was acting. He just wasn't that experienced at it.

 

He was reading in the lounge, using one of her small portable terminals to fetch articles from the interstellar network. Well, he was reading and watching her, and it was just getting on Armada's nerves. If he had something to say, he needed to spit it out. And quit watching her like she had a knife poised at his back.

 

Armada was trying to ignore him as she headed into the galley and back out with a bottle of water, but she finally lost it. “What the hell's the matter?” she spat flatly, obviously irritated. She slammed her bottled water down on the table he sat at, and a few droplets escaped the straw and floated up toward the ceiling.

 

Trunks's eyes rolled up slowly to look at her. “Sounds like you're the one with the problem,” he said coolly before returning his gaze to his studies.

 

“Oh cut the bullshit,” she said and narrowed her eyes. “You're a horrible actor and you've had your eyes on me since you had your own personal conversation with the goddamn spy. You let him get to you, and now you're trying to play it cool,” she said and grimaced, a look that showed how little she believed Trunks feigning innocence. “I'm no fool and I won't be played for one, by _anyone_ ,” she emphasized.

 

Trunks kept quiet for a moment, the tiniest bit of anger showing plainly on his face. He sighed and looked up at Armada. “Has it ever occurred to you that I know nothing about you? How do I know I can,” he shook his head as he searched for the words.

 

“You can't,” Armada shot in before he got the last two words in.

 

“—trust you,” Trunks finished and gave her a slighted look, like she'd ripped him off.

 

There was an awkward silence between the pair, the only sounds in the air those of the ship's engines as they quietly sailed through space. Two sets of blue eyes stared each other down, before Trunks sighed and gave in. He sat back and wiped his right hand across his eyes. “I'm sorry, I let him get to me,” Trunks admitted. “But you've killed people. How do I know you won't kill me?”

 

Armada took in a deep breath and shifted her weight on her feet, then settled her right hand on her hip. “First, you're worth much more to me alive than dead,” she said flatly. “And second,” she turned slightly, ready to walk back into the bridge after she scooped up her water bottle again, “you're the one working your debt off for me. I should be more afraid of you stabbing me in my sleep and fleeing than you afraid of me.” She gave him a second to think on it before she strode out of the lounge and back into the bridge where she settled into the pilot's chair with a heavy sigh.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Uncomfortable silence was the normal script between Trunks and Armada, and it returned after she'd confronted him. Neither spent any time with Nassas besides taking him food and retrieving the leftovers. After what felt like weeks, they finally approached Taydran space, and Armada had to take over piloting the ship manually for the landing. Trunks sat at one of the other chairs in the bridge, and felt somewhat sorry for their captive spy as they landed—Armada took the ship down hard, and it rattled Trunks's bones a little so he figured Nassas was far worse off than he with nothing to strap himself into back in the barracks.

 

Once they'd landed, the two mercenaries put the spy back in his arm shackles and escorted him to the door of the ship. Not wanting to wait for a set of stairs to be brought over, the mercenary pair decided to each hold on to one of Nassas's arms and fly him down to the ground, which they did. The spy lurched, “Ugh I don't do well with that kind of stuff.” He hung his head and Trunks thought he looked kind of pale; maybe that wasn't a lie.

 

Trunks finally took a moment to survey their surroundings. The ship had landed at a small port in the middle of a huge metropolis, with skyscrapers that looked tall enough to fall over all around them and in the distance. Directly in front of them was a multi-level building that wasn't nearly as high as the others but would be an intimidating sight on his home world. Several officers—or at least they looked like officers with their black uniforms and guns—stood around somewhat casually but Trunks knew they were keeping an eye on him and Armada.

 

The open garage/hangar of the building in front of them showed several vehicles inside which ranged from small ships not unlike their own and black cars very similar to the one Armada had back in their hangar on Bmyhad. That's when a group of officials appeared from the shadows inside the garage and made their way out on foot toward Trunks and Armada. The two in front looked like your average paper pushers, or possibly higher-ranked officers who dressed formally instead of in their uniforms. Trunks laughed in his head; they suits didn't look so different from what passed as a suit back home. Funny how little things like that were the same millions of kilometers away from each other.

 

“Wake up, here come the suits,” Armada said to Reine and jerked his arm a little.

 

“Hey, don't yank so hard,” Nassas whined as he brought his head back up. “And it's your fault for making me queasy.”

 

“I thought spies could fly,” Armada said with a smirk. Trunks laughed and Nassas merely rolled his eyes and groaned.

 

The two leaders walking with a group of about a dozen officers behind them finally stood about a meter from Trunks and Armada. There was a man and a woman, both looked fairly young to be really high-ranking officials, but then again Trunks had no idea how things worked on this world. Maybe they aged slower than humans, too?

 

“I'm Rainn,” the woman introduced herself first, then motioned to the man standing at her left, “and this is Dostov.” She had a datapad in her hands which she secured under one arm and reached out to shake hands with Armada. The mercenary simply looked at her as if she were crazy, and Rainn laughed before withdrawing her hand. “Typical,” she said under her breath.

 

“The funds have already been deposited in your account,” Dostov finally spoke. He was a good bit taller than Trunks, with black hair and green eyes just like Nassas. They didn't really look related, but to anyone not paying attention they might have passed as brothers or cousins. “We just need him,” Dostov made a small nod with his head in Reine's direction. Armada and Trunks still had yet to let go of his arms, holding him stationary where he stood between them.

 

Armada turned to Trunks and nodded, and he let go of his hold on Nassas's right arm. Armada followed suit and the spy stumbled forward a step or two before two of the uniformed officers approached to help him walk away.

 

Rainn was working on her datapad before she flipped it around and held it out toward Armada. Trunks could read the screen as well, and it appeared that the money had indeed been transferred. Armada nodded and Rainn brought the datapad back to her chest. “Pleasure doing business with you,” Armada said flatly. “Let's go,” she said to Trunks and turned to leave.

 

Trunks wasn't as fast to react to her command, and it was probably for the best. The armed officers all pointed their weapons at him and his comrade and he heard the clicking of them loading. Armada spun around, a look of incredulous anger on her face. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.

 

“Sorry,” Rainn said with a smirk, “we can't let you go.” She paused and Trunks noticed Dostov had a small pistol pointed at him. “Even if we never recover what we paid you,” Rainn continued, looking directly at Armada, “you're worth twenty times that to some of our enemies.”

 

Trunks's face turned to a stony anger and he glanced to Armada who turned around to square her shoulders toward Rainn and she finally spoke. “And you think you can take me? After how many people have tried and failed?” she asked in a tone that would make Trunks shudder if he wasn't on her side.

 

“Look at how many of my men have their sights on you,” Rainn continued in a sing-song voice like she'd just won. “And there's a number of them you _don't_ see,” she added. Trunks's eyes shot up to several vantage points on the buildings around them, and in a quick glance caught four snipers with long-range rifles. “So you'll come with us alive, or you'll bleed out on the concrete,” Rainn added with a satisfied smile.

 

Trunks knew he could never know exactly how fast those guns fired, but he also knew he'd be able to get out of the way fast enough to not get hit. The only problem was Armada; he knew she was like him but not nearly as strong or fast. He could flee and she'd get killed. Granted he still had reservations about trusting her, Trunks wasn't about to leave her to her death.

 

From where Rainn, Dostov, and the rest of the police officers stood, Trunks and Armada disappeared into thin air. Shots rang out where they were standing, peppering the hull of the mercenary ship with dents. “After her!” Dostov shouted and the officers all moved in on the area.

 

Just inside the still open door of the mercenary ship, Trunks sat on the floor with his back to the ship's hull, with Armada kneeling in front of him, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. As gunfire continued to hit the ship, Armada looked up at Trunks with wide eyes—clearly she was shocked. Trunks was looking at the edge of the door frame, listening to what was happening down below. He turned back to Armada to ask, “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” she said and nodded before she pushed herself away from him and stood up. She reached over his head and hit a few buttons that closed the door, which finished with a hiss of the air lock setting in place. “Let's get the hell out of here,” she said and turned and ran the few steps it took to the bridge. Trunks nodded and stood up to follow her.

 

As Armada threw herself into the pilot's seat, the ship rocked violently. Trunks stopped right behind her and glanced in the direction of the disturbance, knowing immediately it was some sort of explosion just based on the sound alone. A sudden thought hit him, “How do we know they won't blow us out of the sky with missiles or something?”

 

Armada clenched her teeth as she flipped several switches before she reached for a lever with her right hand. “We don't,” she said and slammed the lever forward. The ship jumped to life beneath their feet, and Trunks lost his balance for a moment. “You might want to buckle yourself in,” Armada said as the ship started to lift up from the ground violently.

 

Trunks scrambled into one of the two free seats and sat down, strapping himself in. He opened his mouth to say something but the thought was lost when Armada broke in with, “Don't puke.” He had no time to register what she said when the ship blasted forward, slamming the two mercenaries into the backs of their seats. Trunks's vision went blurry for a few seconds, and he knew if he didn't use his own energy to stabilize himself he'd have passed out from the force. The pull only lasted a few seconds before they slowed to what felt like a crawl but Trunks knew was just the end of the rapid acceleration.

 

Armada fell forward in her seat against the straps keeping her in it and gasped for a few breaths. She wasn't as strong as Trunks, he knew that, and wondered how she managed to _not_ pass out. Then again she seemed to have done this a few times before so maybe she was used to it.

 

“We're good now,” Armada said and swallowed heavily before she adjusted the ship's course. She sat back in her seat and unbuckled herself, but made no attempt to get up from where she sat. Trunks followed suit and unfastened his restraints. He stood slowly and looked down to Armada, she only glanced in his eyes for a second but he had a good idea of what she was thinking. Just how the hell had he gotten the two of them out of there? When he'd grabbed her down on the ground, he'd felt her tense and move to counterattack until she realized he was the one who had her and they were flying back up into the ship. He supposed it'd be frightening to know your subordinate could have killed you any moment now, if they so wished.

 

He went to move for the galley to get some water, when she spoke and stopped him in his tracks. “Thanks.” Trunks looked over to her again but he couldn't see her face since she was focused on the smattering of data on the monitor in front of her.

 

“No problem,” he said and nodded, even though she couldn't see him. He turned and continued his trek to the galley to get something to drink, that sudden acceleration made him feel dehydrated.

 

When Armada heard him walk out of the bridge, she sat forward and wiped at the sweat on her forehead with her right hand. _He could have left me to die_ , she thought. _With that much power, he could have killed me himself if he'd so wanted to, back at that lab in Ute._ She sighed and changed the display to the ship's outer cameras to watch stars and systems fly by. In that moment that he'd rescued them both from being shot, she felt a twinge of his real power, that he'd kept in check all this time and it was nauseating. She knew there were people in the universe stronger than her, but if what she felt was merely a fraction of his power she wondered why in the hell he wasn't laying waste to everything in sight and claiming power for himself.

 

Thinking about it gave her a headache, so Armada closed her eyes and tried to relax. An impossible task but more productive than panicking over things she couldn't control.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading!

 

Silvia


	5. Mission 04: Outlaws Against Outlaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Armada accept a job protecting a bank from a known robbery threat.

Working on updating faster. <3

 

 

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Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

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“Trunks!” Murtole yelled from across the room and sprinted toward the man in question. Trunks took a step back and Murtole launched himself into the much taller man, wrapping his arms around Trunks's chest and clinging for dear life. Murtole looked up with a sad but adoring expression, “I never got to thank you properly for saving my life.”

 

Murtole sniffled a little and Trunks laughed. “It's okay, it was nothing,” he said with a smile. The kid was attached, and that was putting it lightly.

 

“I wondered when we would see you next.”

 

Trunks's eyes shot up to see Devan had entered the room with that trademark knowing smirk of his. “Hey,” Trunks called out with a slight wave and a smile that said 'help?'

 

“Murtole,” Devan began in that chiding voice like he was scolding a child.

 

“Oh, oh!” Murtole exclaimed and released his vice-grip on Trunks. He glanced to Devan, then Trunks again and his face reddened. “Uh, sorry,” he said rather sheepishly.

 

“It's okay,” Trunks said with a heartfelt smile. The kid was just thankful Armada hadn't killed him. Another thought hit Trunks; would she really have killed him or was it just a bluff? Honestly, he didn't know and it unsettled him.

 

“You've got a message from your mother,” Devan spoke up again, this time he was only a few feet away from Trunks. The demi-Saiyan supposed that while he was thinking Devan had finished closing the distance between them. “Back in the VR room, everything's already set up,” Devan motioned with his head in the direction he'd come from, farther back into the lab.

 

“Thanks,” Trunks said genuinely and walked toward the VR room. It was a small room set up specifically for sending prerecorded video messages over long interstellar distances, hence its namesake, “video recording.” Once people were a certain distance away from one another, real-time communication was impossible so the only method left was voice recording, or more commonly now, video recording. Trunks quickly found the small room; it reminded him of the communications room aboard Armada's ship. He briefly thought, shouldn't it be the other way around? Her comm room should remind him of the lab, which he was far more familiar with.

 

Either way, he sat down at the lone chair in the room in front of a large monitor. He saw his mother's face already up on the screen, apparently all he had to do was push play. How did Devan seem to know whenever Trunks was going to show up unannounced? The man had an uncanny knack for it. Trunks told the video to play and sat back to hear from his mother.

 

_First Trunks, let me say I love you and I'm glad to know you're okay. Second, the moment you get home I'm going to kick your ass, and everyone has agreed to help. What are you doing, out there getting into trouble? I sent you on one little errand... You're just like your father, you know. Getting involved in things outside of your own life. For him, it ended up for the best. I suppose I can only hope the same happens for you._

 

_I love you kiddo, now be safe and don't make me worry. And send me a message as soon as you get this, Devan will tell me if you don't._

 

Bulma blew a kiss to the screen before the video stopped and the monitor went back to the file system where Devan had loaded the video. Trunks smiled to himself, but couldn't shake the guilt of leaving his mother by herself. She seemed to understand though, that he had to do this. Sure he could run away but it would eat at him from the inside out, helping some guy steal from Armada then leaving her to fend for herself. She might not have been the most deserving person in the universe but that was just an excuse, wasn't it?

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 04: Outlaws Against Outlaws

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks was sitting in the lounge watching one of the local news networks when Armada finally returned from wherever she'd been. He'd already been back for most of the afternoon after his visit to the lab to see his friends and send a message back home to his mother. Armada wandered into the lounge and set down a large duffel bag she was carrying, and it landed on the table Trunks sat at with a loud thud. He glanced up at her, “What'd you buy, weights?”

 

Armada opened the bag and pulled out a metal can almost the size of her head. “Paint,” she said flatly and set the can down in front of Trunks. “After I get the dents out of the hull of the ship, courtesy of our friends on Taydr,” she explained, “I'll need to repaint a few areas of the hull. Got some extra paint for the future so I don't have to run out and buy some whenever the ship gets scraped up,” she finished. After a moment's silence, she queried, “What are you up to?”

 

“I guess it's a good thing you bought the extra paint,” Trunks said and pointed the small remote to the large monitor on the wall. “Watch,” he said and turned the volume up.

 

“ _Taydran officials report that a mercenary group attempted to kidnap one of their detectives four days ago local time. The incident happened at police headquarters in Hrimth, the capital of the nation as reported by their national press yesterday evening. Officials have released video footage of the spacecraft the mercenary group owns in hopes that the public can give tips as to where to find the suspects. Officials are telling the public that if they have any information to contact Detective Norman Dostov via the Hrimth Police Department's network site.”_

 

Video footage played while the broadcaster read the story, and it was clearly their ship being fired upon by several police officers. “Pause it,” Armada said and Trunks did as instructed. She walked closer to the monitor to get a good look at the image of her ship in the middle of a firefight. “Why would they release this?” Armada said softly, more like she was thinking out loud than talking to Trunks. “It doesn't make any sense,” she turned back to Trunks.

 

“I guess they want help tracking us down,” Trunks offered with a slight shrug.

 

“Yeah but anyone who could possibly have the ability to track down and capture a spacecraft of this size would already know who they're after, and wouldn't turn us into Taydr when they could have the bounty themselves,” she said with a concentrated and thoughtful look on her face. “Play the rest of the video,” Armada said and turned back to the monitor. Trunks resumed the broadcast and the pair watched as the ship blasted its engines, sending several people flying away while scorching the earth underneath before shooting up into the atmosphere. Afterward, the news broadcast continued with other stories and Trunks muted the sound.

 

“That's the first time anyone's offered up a picture of my ship to the entire universe,” she said flatly and with irritation. She shifted her weight on her feet and looked back at Trunks once again. “Guess we'll be repainting the entire ship then.”

 

“Whoa,” Trunks held up his hands in a 'stop' motion, “what do you mean 'we?' Can't you get a professional to do it?”

 

Armada smirked. “I have all the equipment I need here. Besides, we're wanted criminals. I'm not dumb enough to go to a repair dock with a giant target on my back that says 'please capture us now, we're idiots,'” she finished, using a higher pitch in her voice for the last part. Trunks laughed; was she actually making a joke? _That_ was a first.

 

“It's not hard,” Armada continued, presumably talking about painting the ship. “And it'll go twice as fast with the two of us working on it,” she smirked again. “And seeing as how I'm your boss, you don't get to say no,” she added.

 

Trunks sighed, “I suppose you're right,” he said. Truthfully she couldn't make him do anything and they both knew it, but since he was living on the ship it might be a good idea to help repaint it and keep the heat off of them, since if she was captured then he was too.

 

Several minutes later the pair was standing down on one of the metal catwalks below the ship in the hangar on Ute. Armada knelt next to a pile of cylinders and hoses, putting several pieces together. Trunks looked up at the ship; it was a good size and would likely take well into the night to finish painting. “Put this on,” he heard Armada speak and looked down to face her.

 

She stood up and hefted a large tube attached to what looked like a flight harness that belonged to a paratrooper. Trunks blinked a few times, “What's that?”

 

“The paint can,” she said matter-of-factly. “You fasten the top belt around your waist, the lower one around your hips and the canister hangs off of your hip,” she motioned to the parts while she described them. She lifted a nozzle with a long hose leading from the canister, “And you hold down the trigger to paint.” She squeezed the trigger and aimed at a portion of the catwalk railing next to them causing a jet black stripe of paint about eighteen inches in width to appear on the rail. She looked back up to Trunks and held out the nozzle and gear for him.

 

“Black?” Trunks questioned as he took the item from her hands. As soon as she let go, Armada turned around and knelt in front of the mess of parts again, which didn't look so messy now, and began assembling her own paint pack.

 

“Interstellar Investigators Association standard paint scheme,” Armada said as she finished attaching a hose to the end of the paint canister. “If bounty hunters are looking for us, best to hide among them where they're less likely to look,” she finished her work and turned and stood, holding her own paint pack by the belts in front of Trunks.

 

“If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?” Trunks joked as she fastened her own belt around her waist before getting the second wrapped around her hips.

 

“Not exactly,” Armada replied. Finished attaching her pack, she looked back up at him. “You start at the bow near the bridge,” she pointed to the ship, “and go from top to bottom. I'll get the stern where the engines are,” she finished and slowly floated up into the air.

 

“Wait,” Trunks called out and she stopped and hovered only a meter above the catwalk. “Shouldn't we be wearing masks or something?” he asked earnestly. Especially in the closed space of the hangar, they'd choke to death on paint fumes.

 

Armada shook her head. “No fumes and no particulates to worry about,” she said and squeezed the trigger on her paint nozzle into the air. “Environmentally sound,” she said before she turned and flew off. “Just aim at the hull and you'll be fine,” she threw over her shoulder as she flew toward the back of the ship. Trunks looked at the paint nozzle in his hand and shrugged before he flew toward the front of the ship.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After several hours, without any fumes as Trunks was doubtful of what she'd said at first, he and Armada were nearly done painting the ship. He was on the underside of the middle, finishing up the last few lines as Armada came down from the other side to meet underneath. As she moved along, spraying an even coat with her nozzle, she glanced over to Trunks from the corner of her eyes. “Just make sure you don't accidentally paint me,” she said while she continued to work.

 

Bored from the quiet monotony of painting, and tempted by her words despite them holding no humorous intent, Trunks smirked. “Okay,” he said and slowed his pace on the last strip he was painting down the hull. He went slow enough to wait for Armada to come back down the other side, and since she was looking up at the ship and ignoring him he had the perfect opportunity. He quickly swung the nozzle down, away from the ship's hull while still holding the trigger. Armada moved at the last second but not fast enough, and her left arm and a good portion of her chest and abdomen were coated in black paint.

 

Armada looked up at him shocked, until she saw the smirk on his face. “Oh you think you're funny, do you?” she said with a rather malicious smirk, and Trunks wasn't quite sure if she understood it was just a joke and not an intentional move to hurt her.

 

“Sorry,” he shrugged facetiously, “I guess I'm just a rookie with this thing.” He brandished the painting 'wand' toward her as if he was completely confused as to how to use it.

 

“Then I suppose I'll have to teach you!” Armada grinned and flew at him. Trunks fled, but she was fast—faster than he thought she would be. He barely got away from her first attempt to paint him, and the tip of his left boot turned black.

 

“Hey that was my shoe!” he countered playfully, stopping momentarily. He'd lost sight of her and she suddenly appeared behind him. Just as she pulled the trigger on the nozzle he disappeared again, and the chase was on. Trunks flew under the ship back to the other side of the hangar, near the catwalk where they left their paint supplies. He stopped again to listen for movement, to get the jump on where she'd be coming from. Honestly, if he wanted to he could fly circles around her, but where was the fun in that?

 

Distracted by his thoughts for a moment, Armada came flying in from his left and slammed her right palm across his face. Trunks stepped back to realize she'd wiped something thick and oily on him. She laughed and he reached up to wipe at the liquid. “Nice,” he said in defeat as he saw black paint on his fingertips, matching the smear of black paint on her arm where she had taken some of what he'd shot her with to smear on him.

 

As Trunks wiped at the paint stretching from the bottom of his forehead at his eyebrows down to the top of his upper lip, he heard Armada laughing at him. Laughing! Not even ten minutes ago he still would have thought that impossible. “Don't worry, it's not harmful to you,” she said after she finished laughing.

 

Trunks closed his right eye as the paint dripped and raised his left eyebrow before he laughed. “You got me,” he admitted and laughed quietly.

 

“Here,” Armada said and reached up with her left hand, the one without any paint on it. She wiped across his eyebrows to keep the paint from dripping into his eyes. Trunks laughed slightly and Armada cracked a very small smile. Since she'd wiped the paint from his face, the pair had only a foot between them. For a moment, to Trunks, it felt like time stopped because they were silent and they just looked into each others eyes.

 

The silence was broken when something rang out, and after a moment they both realized it was Armada's phone. She flew down to where she'd left it on the catwalk where she had assembled their painting packs, and furiously wiped her right hand on her shirt to get as much paint off as she could before she picked up the phone. By the time she had her phone in her hands, Trunks landed at her side.

 

Armada flipped open her phone and clicked a button to set it on speakerphone. “Mace,” she said, holding the phone out from her chest about twelve inches, “you'd better have a good job for me.”

 

“ _Only the best, of course,”_ Trunks heard a man on the other end of the conversation laugh.

 

Armada looked over at Trunks. “Mace is my broker,” she started, “he finds good paying jobs for me.”

 

“ _Who are you talking to?”_ the voice on the phone asked.

 

“My new employee. Now tell me what you've got or shut up, I'm busy,” Armada wiped at her forehead with the back of her right forearm, still holding the phone in her hand.

 

“ _Got a good one for you. Compensation starts at two hundred thousand,”_ Mace said and sounded kind of happy about it. _“All you have to do is provide some extra security for a local bank in Ute. They've had threats of a robbery so the bank president is concerned his own security isn't quite enough.”_

 

“Sounds good. Send me the rest of the information over the network,” Armada said and snapped her phone shut. She studied the phone for a moment before she looked back up to Trunks. “Looks like we've got work to do.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks hovered over Armada's shoulder as she sat at one of the three main consoles in the bridge of the ship. “So what's our assignment?” he asked as she scanned through the message sent from her 'broker,' her word for the middle man between her and her contractors themselves.

 

“The Mallean First Bank of Ute needs some extra security,” Armada said with disinterest. “Apparently they've had a number of threats of a robbery and they feel the threats are legitimate. They want some temporary extra security.” She read on farther in silence before she sat back in her chair and looked up over her left shoulder at Trunks. “Looks like we'll need to go shopping; they want us to blend in with the staff.”

 

“What do we need, uniforms?” Trunks asked somewhat surprised.

 

Armada cocked her head to the side. “No, just some nice suits. Well,” she paused briefly, “really only you need to get new clothes, I've got things for these types of occasions.” She turned back to the monitor and continued reading the last bits of information Mace had sent over. “I guess it's a good thing this came along now, you really need something to replace what you brought with you anyway.”

 

“What?” Trunks said with shock and indignation. “You have a problem with my clothes?!” he asked as a few blood vessels stood out on his forehead. Was she trying to insult him?

 

“Yes,” Armada said as casually as if she were confirming her order for lunch. “You look like you just crawled out of some backwater world that learned to fly yesterday.” She paused for a moment and Trunks opened his mouth to speak but no words came to him. “You stand out,” she continued, “and that's not what we want.”

 

Trunks narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “I happen to be a very good looking guy who dresses himself well, thank you.” Truthfully, he didn't really believe the words as they came out of his mouth. He was generally still wearing the same things he'd worn since he was a teenager... he'd never given his clothes that much thought before. He was busy with more important things back then.

 

“You can think whatever you want,” Armada continued, “but at least for this mission you do need new clothes.” She looked him up and down a moment before she spoke again. “With your body type you'll definitely need to get your things tailored to you. I know a good place,” she finished and stood.

 

“What, right now?” Trunks asked.

 

Armada eyed him warily. “You have somewhere else you need to be?”

 

Trunks rolled his eyes and walked past her toward the door of the ship. She knew the answer to that question; she didn't need to chide him like he was a child.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks walked a half-pace behind Armada and off to her right side as they strode up to the front doors of the Mallean First Bank of Ute downtown in the city. It was the middle of the day, a little unusual for a mission to start at that time for them, but this time they weren't breaking into buildings or otherwise sneaking around like criminals. _Criminals_ , Trunks thought as it finally hit him full-force. He'd be doing a lot of illegal things in this line of work, in addition to those he'd _already_ done, and his mother most certainly would not be happy. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut; he only knew things would get worse from here on out. Then again, he reminded himself, he got himself into this mess and running from it like a coward just didn't seem like an option.

 

As the pair walked through the front doors they were greeted by a man who introduced himself as the head of security. He led the pair through the main lobby and into a narrow hallway down the side of the building where they were processed through a scanner. After they were taken to a small waiting room and told to wait until instructed to enter the bank president's office. The head of security left and the mercenaries stood and waited; neither was one to sit in a situation such as this.

 

Armada stood with her back toward Trunks and glanced around the room. She appeared to be analyzing everything in sight, like she was always on guard. Trunks was still a very astute observer, but he hadn't been so obsessed with monitoring his immediate surroundings for many years now. That made him wonder, what was Armada so afraid of? Or rather, if she wasn't nervous now, which she didn't seem to be—what had made such an impact on her in the past that she was still carrying over nervous behaviors?

 

He didn't get much time to think about it when the double doors leading into the bank president's office opened and a brunette middle-aged woman walked out. She informed the pair that they were to enter to meet with president and made her way out. As she walked out she made eye contact with Trunks, and stared at him with an intensity that he didn't understand. Mercenaries weren't beloved, he knew that, but this seemed to be about something else. He didn't get any time to analyze it as Armada was already three steps into the president's office before Trunks had moved an inch.

 

When Trunks walked in the bank president stood from his desk and motioned toward the double doors with his right hand and spoke, “Close the door please.” Trunks nodded and pulled the double doors shut behind him and the president seated himself once more.

 

The bank president, a middle-aged man with dusty brown hair and brown eyes, swallowed thickly as he looked at the two mercenaries standing in his office. “Please, have a seat,” he said nervously. Armada didn't move a muscle and Trunks merely shifted his weight on his feet. The president nervously acknowledged that they didn't wish to sit and moved on to the business at hand.

 

“I've got a serious problem on my hands,” he said hurriedly. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at the sweat beading on his forehead. He looked back up at Armada nervously, then glanced to Trunks.

 

“This isn't about a robbery threat, is it,” Armada broke in and caught the president's eyes again. She didn't ask a question; the way she delivered it said that it was a statement of fact despite the last two words of her sentence.

 

The president looked mildly agitated and glanced between the two mercenaries before settling on Armada. “No, it isn't. Well, it is but it isn't.” He paused for a moment and glanced down at his desk; Trunks supposed he was trying to build his courage before he looked up and spoke once more. “This institution has a substantial account with... the Orelnenn family.”

 

Trunks noticed Armada's face settled into a very displeased scowl before she spoke. “You realize what you've done now, right? If things weren't this bad you wouldn't have had to hire us.” She turned her head and Trunks heard her swear under her breath, though he didn't think the bank president heard it. “So what's going on?” she asked after returning her attention to the president.

 

“The Orelnenns lost a significant amount of money in an investment that went belly-up,” the president spoke once more. “They want to rob the bank and take back their money along with the rest of the money of the other accounts here to make up the difference in what they lost.”

 

“You idiot,” Armada scolded the bank president darkly, “this is exactly why you don't do business with criminals. Or,” she continued, “at least if you do, you don't involve innocent people in the process. Let me guess, if you don't let them rob the place, they've threatened to kill you?”

 

The president nodded. “And my employees, and their families.”

 

Armada shifted her weight on her feet as she lifted one of the arms crossed over her chest so her fist was near her mouth, as if she were thinking. Trunks was a bit surprised at her statement of leaving out innocents if one were to do business with criminals. Was it a matter of honor, or just practicality? Thinking over everything that was just said, another question came to Trunks. “Wait, who are the Orelnenns?” he asked, bringing Armada out of her thoughts.

 

“Utian organized crime,” she responded flatly. “No matter where you go in the universe, anywhere there is a legitmate, established government, there will always be some level of organized crime working beneath it.” She paused a moment and turned to look at Trunks. “The Orelnenn family has a long history of working in Bmyhad, and they're centered in Ute. This moron,” she glanced to the bank president and back, “just threw in with one of the most powerful mafias this side of the Republic.”

 

“How was I to know what would happen?!” the bank president shot back with a face red from anger. Apparently he had something of a spine to stand up to Armada. That, or he really had no idea who he was talking to.

 

“What did you expect, you fucking idiot?!” Armada screamed back at him. Trunks was a bit taken back from her anger. It seemed... misplaced. “You cast your lot in with a gang and expect them to behave themselves? I should let the Orelnenns kill you.”

 

“Please, don't!” he cried out, tears beginning to well in his eyes. “I'll pay you anything, please, just stop them.”

 

“The risk of this job has increased considerably compared to what the stated parameters were,” Armada continued in a much colder voice. “The new price is five hundred thousand, non-negotiable.”

 

The bank president looked furious, but swallowed his pride and assented. “Fine. But we can't have any casualties, you understand?”

 

“That's fine,” Armada replied coolly. “When should we expect them to attempt the robbery?”

 

“Sometime in the next ten days,” the bank president replied. “Though I'd suspect sometime sooner knowing the Orelnenns.”

 

“What have you told them about us?” Armada continued. Trunks hadn't given it any thought, but it was a good question. If they told the bank president they were planning a robbery, wouldn't they notice he wasn't cooperating by hiring a pair of mercenaries?

 

“Personal protection,” the president supplied. “Honestly they won't think much of you, and won't consider you a concern.”

 

“Your head of security needs to show us all of your surveillance and where it's set up, as well as the building's construction schematics and any security weaknesses you have,” Armada continued. “If we're going to stop this, we need to know everything they could possibly exploit.”

 

The bank president's face twisted in anger. “If we do that then you could rob us blind before the Orelnenns do!”

 

“Why would I do that and piss off Orelnenns myself? You really are an idiot,” Armada finished and turned to leave. She stopped after one step and looked over her should at the bank president once more. “Whatever the Orelnenns told you to do to prepare for the robbery, do it. You don't want them to think anything has changed.” With that, she walked up to the double doors and pushed them open, striding out. Trunks followed quickly after her.

 

“What the hell have I done?” the bank president quietly said to himself as he lowered his face into his hands. Mercenaries versus mafia? This would spell nothing else but disaster.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Once outside the bank president's office, Armada stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared at nothing in particular, apparently lost in thought. Trunks walked up beside Armada while the same brunette woman from before he looked at him oddly walked past them and back into the president's office, closing the door behind her. He turned his attention back from the unknown woman to his comrade.

 

“So what do you think?” Trunks asked, knowing that obviously she hadn't said everything that was on her mind to the bank president.

 

She stayed silent a moment before uncrossing her arms and turning to face her comrade. “The Orelnenns value their family name so the highest positions within the organization can only be held by family members. However,” she paused briefly, “they do have their fair share of energy fighters among their ranks. Nobody that we can't handle individually, but together they could pose a problem.”

 

“When do you think they'll strike? At night, when nobody is here?” Trunks asked. If he had to rob a bank, although he'd never thought about it before, he would do so at night when the bank was closed to avoid all the people that would be inside and get in the way.

 

“Normally, I'd agree with you that they would try to pull it off at night,” Armada replied.

 

“But this isn't a normal robbery,” Trunks supplied with a knowing nod.

 

“Exactly,” Armada spoke once more. “Think about it; they're trying to take their own money out and take as much as they can of the rest in order to make up an investment loss. If they come in at night when everything is locked down they'll have to blast open the vault, and risk destroying a significant amount of the cash inside. They don't want to do that, so they'll plan for the robbery during the day when the vault is open.”

 

“There's no other way to open the vault besides destroying it?” Trunks asked. He wasn't an expert in these matters, but the vault was open during the bank's working hours, so there had to be a way to open it otherwise.

 

“It's set to a timer, so it only opens and closes once a day during working days,” Armada answered. “The timer isn't even controlled by anyone at the bank, it's set when the vault is installed and can only be changed the company who installed the vault. This way, nobody at the facility is actually responsible or even has authority to open the vault on their own.” She paused a moment. “The idea originally was to stop robberies, however instead of preventing robberies, they simply concentrated all robberies to occur during the day instead of during both day and night.” Armada stopped talking a moment to let all of that information sink in before she summed up her words with one sentence. “They'll attack during the day, they have to.”

 

“How do you know all of this? You rob a lot of banks?” Trunks asked with a laugh.

 

“What kind of mercenary would I be if I didn't know this information?” Armada asked flatly. Before either mercenary could continue their conversation, they were interrupted by a third person in the room who made his presence known by clearing his throat.

 

The pair turned to see the man who'd led them back to the bank president's office earlier. “I'm Kelk, head of security,” he introduced himself a second time. “Come with me, I've gotten word that we have a lot of information to go over.” He turned and headed back down that small hallway and Trunks and Armada both quickly fell into step behind him. Trunks got the feeling from the way the guy spoke and carried himself that he wasn't happy with the situation. Well, nobody would be happy to know a mafia planned to rob their establishment, but Trunks felt that Kelk's unhappiness had more to do with the mercenaries' presence than it did the actual threat of a robbery.

 

 

-+-

 

 

That first day, Trunks and Armada spent hours with Kelk going over all of the information Armada had said they'd need. Trunks was glad his mother was a genius, because while he felt exhausted after going over all that data, he still felt he had a good grasp of all of it, including the floor plan of the building. He was sure it was genetic and had to do with his mother's side of the family. That, and even though the androids were terrorizing Earth while he grew up, Bulma still made him study and taught him herself in the basement labs of Capsule Corp. And after the androids and Cell she made him study even more, stating that he'd need to know a lot more than he did if he wanted to be useful outside of construction in their new world. Who knew how right she was, though he doubted she'd expected he'd be where he was now.

 

Late that first night, Trunks rolled over for the umpteenth time that night. They'd long since returned to the ship, since Armada was sure they didn't need to camp out at the bank overnight. Trunks had been trying to sleep for a while now, but had thus far been unsuccessful. Something about this job bothered him on an unconscious level, he just couldn't figure out what in order to make that part of him shut up so he could get some sleep. Feeling frustrated more than anything else, he finally sat up and decided to go grab something to eat. He didn't feel hungry, but he wasn't _not_ hungry, so maybe a midnight snack would help.

 

When Trunks walked into the lounge he found Armada still wearing her suit from earlier, seated at the small table in the lounge with a small computer in front of her. “Still going over everything?” Trunks asked as he walked past and into the galley to rummage for something to eat.

 

“I have to be prepared,” she answered lowly while keeping her attention focused on the computer in front of her. As Trunks found a fruit resembling an apple and grabbed a bottle of water, he wondered if she didn't catch on as quickly as he did. It was a bit surprising, but then again maybe he was on to something earlier thinking his brain was a bit more advanced due to some genetics. His mother and grandfather were both literal geniuses, and his father wasn't exactly stupid.

 

“There wasn't that much to go over, was there?” Trunks asked as he walked back into the lounge. He leaned back against the wall opposite of where Armada sat and took a bite of the fruit in his left hand.

 

Armada sighed before she looked up at him. “No, but I can't shake this feeling that we're missing something.” She watched Trunks for a moment before adding, “You too?”

 

Trunks didn't realize he'd done anything to indicate he was in agreement, but he probably wasn't as guarded about his facial expressions as she was. “Yeah,” he replied through a mouthful of fruit, “something just... bugs me. I don't know what, I can't think of logically what we would have missed.”

 

Armada looked back down at the computer in front of her. “Gut instincts aren't a bad thing. Sometimes they save your life.”

 

Trunks thought about her words. He'd thought, from what he knew about her so far, that she'd be dismissive of his feeling that something was off as illogical. Go figure that she felt the same. He still knew barely anything about her, and he was fairly certain she wouldn't sit down and have a long conversation with him to talk all about herself. She kind of reminded him of Piccolo with her standoffish nature, and he laughed to himself.

 

He must have actually laughed out loud, as Armada's head snapped up. “You should get some rest,” she said coolly before looking back down at her computer.

 

She started typing something and Trunks stood up from where he previously leaned back against the wall. “You should do the same,” Trunks replied before he took another bite of his snack. He started to walk out and stopped one last time to look back at Armada. Whatever she was doing, she was certainly engrossed as she didn't look at him again. He knew better than to assume she was distracted by her work, but it fascinated him. He hadn't seen her quite this focused before. Then again, they were waiting for someone else to make the first move, where so far they had been on the offensive in all of their assignments.

 

After his brief reverie, Trunks continued on his way back to the barracks and his room. By the time he entered and sat on the edge of his bed, he was done eating and threw the core of his apple-like fruit in the trash can in the corner. He laid back in bed and drank from his water bottle, and seriously wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks walked nonchalantly to one of the back offices of the First Mallean Bank of Ute. It was his fifth day on duty waiting for a mafia organized robbery to take place, which he was assigned to thwart. The first few days weren't bad, but tension was building as he and his comrade waited. And not just for them, but for everyone at the bank who knew what was about to happen. The bank president had taken a convenient vacation, which Trunks had cursed when he found out. How would they appear to be the president's personal security if he wasn't _there_? Armada said it was unfortunate but couldn't be helped, so they continued on with the job. Ditching it at this point might make their true intent more obvious, and Armada said there was no point in getting all the heat with none of the reward. Trunks agreed, but that didn't make the tension ease up any.

 

Trunks entered the small office and closed the door behind him when he entered. _“Stay on your guard, they're here,”_ he heard the voice of Kelk crackle over the small radio earpiece he had in his right ear. Just minutes ago, six men in dark suits walked in the front doors to the bank. Kelk had identified them as members of the Orelnenn syndicate and ordered everyone to move into position. Trunks was to stay put in a back office that the Orelnenn regulars never used nearest the vault. He couldn't see what was going on outside of his position, but he was in the best proximity to the vault if they made their move.

 

“ _This might not be the strike, so keep cool,”_ he heard Armada's voice come over the radio as well. Over the past few days every now and then different Orelnenn low ranking 'gophers' would come in to withdraw or deposit funds. They had to be careful not to overreact if this was normal business for the Orelnenns. At the same time, they still needed to be ready, and up until now they had never seen more than two organization members in the bank at any one time. Which was why everyone moved into position when half a dozen strolled in with smiles on their faces.

 

Trunks did the math in his head as he stood in the office and tried to look busy if someone came in. There was himself, Armada, Kelk, and nine other security guards, three of which were in suits like he and Armada while the rest were in their normal uniforms with Kelk. Kelk had said there wasn't much of a point in having them dress incognito since the security guards might be recognized anyway, which would only serve to tip off the mafia that they were planning to stop the robbery. The three guards who worked the least were put in suits just to make it seem like security was not overly heavy. It would be easier for them to blend in with the patrons as well.

 

Trunks heard his radio crackle again and waited for someone to speak, but all he heard was light static for a few seconds. Suddenly he heard a dull thud over the radio and the signal cut out. Trunks immediately knew something was wrong, but he didn't want to speak lest he miss something important coming over the radio. He heard his radio crackle again like someone was about to speak, but after a few seconds it cut out again. He couldn't wait any longer; clearly something was going on. He reached for the door when it flew open and someone rushed in and pushed a piece of plastic against his nose and mouth.

 

Trunks quickly realized it was Armada holding a small plastic mask to his face matching one she was wearing, though hers was actually strapped on. She kicked the door shut behind her and glanced back up at Trunks. Her eyes were squinted almost shut, and she seemed to have a pained expression on her face. Before Trunks could say anything she preempted him, “Gas, through the ventilation system.”

 

The realization hit him like a bag of bricks to the back of the head. They never looked at the ventilation system beyond noting it on the building's schematics. He figured that must have been what nagged at him and Armada both several days ago, but it was too late to worry about that now. Trunks put his left hand on his mask and used his right hand to pull the strap over his head and secure the mask to his face.

 

Able to let go of his mask, Armada immediately stumbled backwards before she caught herself somewhat and used the door behind her as leverage to lean on. “It should dissipate in about fifteen minutes,” she said in a strained voice. She suddenly cringed as if she were in pain and slid down the door to the floor.

 

Trunks closed the small distance between them and knelt down beside her. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked with worry. Clearly she hadn't gotten her mask on as quickly as he had his... thanks to her quick thinking.

 

“It's a paralytic,” she said through closed eyed and strained breaths. “I breathed in too much. You'll have to handle everything,” she said as her fists unclenched.

 

Trunks quickly realized she was only getting worse, and not better as time wore on. If he had to do this himself, he needed to put her somewhere relatively safe, and fast. He put his right arm under her left arm and pulled her up to stand on her feet. She couldn't stand on her own, and he pulled her closer and wrapped her left arm around the back of his shoulders and neck. Holding her left arm with his left hand, he put his right arm around her waist and helped her walk to the corner of the office and a small closet.

 

After opening the closet door and setting her down inside, her back against the back wall, Trunks let go and stood over her. “Stay here, I'll come back for you,” he said and waited for a reaction. She could only look up at him through labored breaths; either she couldn't talk or didn't have the energy. Either way he closed the door on her and turned his attention to the task at hand.

 

“Anybody else still standing?” Trunks asked into his radio. He waited a moment for a reply, and after receiving none, he assumed the worst—he was the only one left. Well, him against six guys wouldn't be too bad, he supposed. Even if they had energy fighters among them, they couldn't be a match for him—if they were then they wouldn't be serving anyone else but themselves. His real concern was making sure that none of the patrons or employees would get hurt during this operation.

 

Trunks walked to the door to the office and stopped in front of it. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense everyone in the building. He had a clear read on everyone who was unmoving, and just as he started to get a good idea of where the mafia members were, he was interrupted by shouting. “You've got four minutes before this place goes up, now move!”

 

Trunks's eyes opened in shock. ' _Before this place goes up...'_ he thought for a moment before he quickly realized what that meant—the building was going to explode. In four minutes. Less than that, actually, if they were speaking in Bmyhadian minutes, which were shorter than Earth minutes. Trunks started to feel sick. He could sense the mafia members and take them out in that amount of time, but how the hell would he find a bomb in time? And he couldn't disarm it, he'd have to remove it—if he even _could_ move it without it going off early.

 

Trunks clenched his teeth. _Calm down,_ he told himself. He needed to stay composed to think. He had no time and he had to find a bomb. A bomb that had to have been planted before he and Armada arrived five days ago, otherwise they'd have seen it being done. Unless they brought it with them today; he didn't see the six men enter the bank but when the call went out to get into position one of the guards noted that two men carried duffel bags—not uncommon for their deposits and withdrawals, but what if they carried the bomb in? Scanners at the front of the bank were supposed to catch these types of things, but Trunks knew that technology wasn't foolproof. They could have hidden it somehow.

 

He was wasting too much time, and even though he wasn't entirely sure if he could pull this off, Trunks knew he couldn't keep standing still. He had to act, even if in vain. He quickly stepped out of the office and into the hallway and glanced both directions. He was essentially behind the vault in the back of the bank. He headed down the hall to his right, the fastest way to the vault, when he heard someone around the corner of the hallway talking. He stopped at the corner to listen.

 

“...evidence do you need?”

 

Trunks's eyebrows came together in consternation.

 

“I said what evidence do you need?” the man repeated a little louder. Trunks took a brief glance around the corner to confirm what he sensed—the man was by himself. He must have been talking into some kind of radio.

 

“I told them I set it for four minutes, but it's actually six. I'll go back to deactivate it after you come in,” the man whispered.

 

 _Is he talking to the police?_ Trunks thought in confusion. Before Trunks could process it any further, another man walked down the hall to the one who Trunks was eavesdropping on.

 

“Li,” Trunks heard the new man speak, “you've done a good job. But we don't need traitors.”

 

Trunks thought he heard the first man try to speak before six gunshots went off, muffled by what sounded like a silencer. Trunks saw the bullet holes in the back wall of the hallway across from him and heard a body slowly slump to the ground.

 

The death of the man Trunks was listening in on confirmed what he was thinking—one of the crew involved in the robbery was working with the authorities. Then how much did local police know about what was happening? If Utian police was even who this guy was talking to.

 

Just then, the ground shook slightly as Trunks heard an explosion. It didn't sound nearly large enough to level the bank, but he panicked all the same that he was too late. Even if the timer was six minutes and not four, he was quickly running out of time. He heard some kind of shouting at the front of the bank, but the words were soon distorted by gunfire. Had the police broken in during the robbery? Whatever was happening, it was time for him to move.

 

Trunks whirled around the corner of the hallway to see the man with the gun still standing there. He was shocked to see Trunks, but the demi-Saiyan didn't even give the mafioso time to express his shock. Trunks appeared in front of the man and landed a punishing uppercut to the man's stomach, knocking him out with one blow—a difficult feat for Trunks since it would be far too easy to accidentally kill the man.

 

Trunks flew down the hall and took two hard lefts to wind up in the vault. When he stopped, he found two men with duffel bags loading up as much money as they could, but they had no weapons on them. Trunks found out why as soon as both of them powered up and fired energy blasts at him. Their strength was so low compared to Trunks he quickly swatted away their attacks which hit the side wall of the vault and exploded, the resulting force sending cash flying around the room like snow in a blizzard.

 

Trunks appeared in front of the man closest to him, and with three quick punches he'd laid him out. Before the second man could cry out, Trunks was upon him with the same three quick punches which had dispatched his comrade. As both men fell to the floor, Trunks glanced around. If they were going to blow the place, the best place to do so and cover their tracks would be the vault, wouldn't it? Either he had the right idea or he was lucky, as Trunks suddenly noticed a small metal box on the floor in one corner that looked like an undersized briefcase.

 

The mercenary moved fast, and was kneeling in front of the box in a flash. He lifted it, and it felt extremely heavy for its size. He lifted what looked like a lid to see another metallic box inside, only this one had a small video display that was counting down, and fast. Determining that what he found had to be the bomb, Trunks stalled for a moment. What was he going to do? He couldn't disarm it, he didn't know how. He couldn't turn it off, assuming there was nobody left who knew how to do so, and he certainly didn't know.

 

The numbers quickly approached zero, and sensing he only had seconds left to get rid of this thing, Trunks did the only thing he could think of. He lifted the bomb in his arms and stood before looking up with his right hand outstretched and he fired a massive energy blast into the roof of the vault.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After Trunks had left her in the closet, Armada cursed inwardly. Her body wasn't responding to what she told it to do, and she knew exactly why—but it pissed her off to no end anyway. After what felt like hours of struggling, some feeling started to come back and Armada pushed herself to her feet. Just as she opened the door to the closet, three men with guns burst into the office, knocking the door off its hinges. They leveled automatic rifles at Armada and she could do nothing but grimace in return. They said something to themselves before they put their weapons away and two of the three men ran over to her to assist her in walking.

 

Moments later Armada was outside the front of the bank with the rest of the civilians, behind police lines as Utian police continued their raid. She was able to take off her mask but still had trouble moving due to the paralytic gas. Her limbs felt heavier than the heaviest metals, and her joints felt like they were grinding when she moved, not to mention the excruciating pain. The civilians and employees pulled out were loaded into ambulances bound for local hospitals, most of them unmoving like stones. Normal people couldn't really take a paralytic gas this potent. Normal being the keyword.

 

Armada sat in the back of a police car with the door open. She wondered if Trunks was able to stop the Orelnenns before the police entered. She was starting to wonder what was going on when she felt an enormous energy make itself known inside. She started to panic; the Orelnenns had sent energy fighters after all. Armada forced herself to her feet despite the pain, but before she could do anything else a powerful blast of energy shot straight into the sky, disintegrating a good portion of the bank's roof.

 

When Armada realized it was Trunks who fired the blast and flew out, she could only stare in confusion. _What the hell is he doing?!_ she thought with a sense of panic. Trunks was maybe a quarter of a mile into the sky when suddenly he exploded. The crowd of onlookers that had gathered by now collectively gasped, and officers started shouting as burning debris fell from the sky above downtown Ute.

 

Before Armada could think about what she'd just seen, Trunks appeared next to her, looking no worse for wear except for a few spots of dirt on his white suit. He pulled the plastic mask off of his face and looked to his comrade. Armada found it hard to breathe—still suffering the effects of the paralytic gas—and fell back a step to lean against the open door of the police cruiser she stood next to.

 

Trunks finished brushing some of the dirt from his clothing before he took a step toward Armada. “Are you okay?” he asked again, a repeat of what he'd said to her only minutes before.

 

“I'll live,” Armada replied with a wince. Talking hurt a bit more than she suspected it would.

 

“That was a good show.”

 

Trunks spun around to the voice behind him to see two officers. They were in suits, not uniforms, but they had their badges hanging around their necks. And he recognized exactly who they were. “Detective Neiman, Lieutenant Strife,” he said, the tone of his voice indicating that he'd hardly expected them to be here.

 

“Good to see you again,” Lieutenant Strife added with a knowing smile.

 

“You tricked us,” Armada cut in before anyone else could say anything. The combination of pain she still felt and her anger at the realization that she had been manipulated created a look on her face that worried Trunks, and would have scared him if she was more powerful than he was. Dare he say, she looked downright murderous at the moment. He prepared himself to step in if things got bad.

 

“We did,” Detective Neiman spoke. “And I'm not sorry for it. You both did an excellent job and absolutely deserve every bit of your pay.”

 

Armada grimaced and forced herself to stand upright and take a few steps toward Neiman. Trunks made sure to stay put; she would have trouble pushing past him to get to the Utian officers. “I should kill you where you stand,” Armada ground out through gritted teeth.

 

“But you won't, because it would cause undue complications in your life, especially since you're stranded here until you make enough money to leave,” Neiman quickly retorted. Trunks was shocked at his bravado, but Armada stayed silent where she stood. Then again, it sounded as if Neiman knew more about Armada than he let on, and if Trunks had to guess he figured that unnerved her quite a bit.

 

Neiman smirked and took in deep breath before he continued. “You'll find the money is already deposited into your account.” He looked to Trunks. “You saved a lot of lives today. Good work.” Neiman turned and began to walk away, and Strife gave Trunks a slight nod before turning and walking after his partner.

 

Trunks turned to face Armada and she had her hands clenched into fists at her side. “Damnit!” she shouted and slammed her right fist into the back of the police cruiser she was sitting in only moments ago. The force of her punch tore a hole in the body of the vehicle, but with everything that was going on around them, none of the officers nearby seemed to notice.

 

“Hey, it's okay,” Trunks reached out to place his right hand on her left shoulder and calm her down. Before he made contact, Armada used her left arm in a parrying maneuver and quite forcefully pushed his arm away.

 

“Don't touch me,” she said lowly and with a slight growl. She stared at Trunks in anger for a moment before she forced herself to walk and push past him.

 

Trunks watched her walk away with a scowl on his face. They had accomplished their mission with no casualties and even made more money than they had initially signed on for. Just because the whole thing was set up by a few local police officers was no reason for her to be so angry. Then again, he didn't _know_ her—what if this was who she truly was? Part of Trunks was saddened at the realization, but mostly he was concerned. Maybe he had gotten himself into something he would come to deeply regret.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading!

 

Silvia


	6. Interlude: Detective Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks returns to the hangar to find Armada beaten and bloodied. She refuses to talk to him about what happened, so he takes off on his own to find answers.

-+-

 

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks had double and triple checked the list Armada had given him to make sure he'd gotten everything. With the last of their supplies loaded into the car, he walked around to the driver's side, opened the door and quickly settled himself in. Learning to drive this car was fairly simple; he'd gotten a crash course in it back when they were leaving Mensa and she was injured. Several days ago, she told him she would give him a more proper lesson. _You might as well make yourself useful,_ she'd said to him as she tossed him a the 'key' to the car. It was a black plastic square with a transparent piece in the middle, a chip, she had explained, that when inserted in the vehicle permitted it to start.

 

After thirty minutes of brief instruction mostly on traffic laws in Bmyhad, she left him to figure out the rest, though admittedly it was pretty easy. This car was very similar to cars on Earth, and Bulma taught him to drive when he was twelve. You never knew when you'd need to get away from the Androids... not like a car would really help, but it gave Bulma a sense of ease, thinking her son had an out. Despite that he could already fly.

 

It wasn't long before Trunks arrived at the ship's hangar down at the pier. When he pulled around the back to bring the car through the small garage door, he was surprised to find it wasn't opening. Armada had it programmed to open when detecting the car approach, but nothing was happening. Figuring it was nothing more than a glitch, Trunks parked the car in front of the door and got out on foot. He'd just have to go inside and tell Armada, she would fix it, and he would pull the car in like normal to unload.

 

When Trunks got the human-sized entrance and went to punch in the passcode, he stopped. The lights were not light up on the keypad like normal. _Is this a power outage?_ Trunks wondered briefly. That would explain the door not opening for the car. He stepped closer to the door and placed both hands flat against the surface. Giving a little push, he heard the lock move, and was able to slide the door open slowly. It wasn't heavy for him, he just didn't want to break anything. It was dark inside the hangar when Trunks stepped inside, with the exception of a few lights on the outside of the ship letting in some very dim ambient light into the hangar.

 

After taking a few steps inside, something hit Trunks. _Is that... blood?_ The faint smell of blood hit his nostrils, and worry began to set in. “Armada!” Trunks called out as he followed the trail of the smell. As he ran closer to the source, he heard something move in the dark. To give himself some light, Trunks created a small ball of energy with his right hand. As soon as the light from his energy illuminated the room, his eyes widened in shock. Armada was lying face down on the ground, a small pool of blood around her head with blood running down her hands which were restrained behind her back. Nearby were two bodies of men, and Trunks immediately sensed that they were dead.

 

“Armada!” he shouted as he ran over to her and knelt down beside her. She gurgled and coughed while Trunks used his free left hand to try and help her up. Armada moved with his help, and she was able to get up on her knees. She turned to face him, and Trunks had to hold back a gasp. Blood ran from her mouth and nose, down her neck and chest—for whatever reason she had no shirt on, just her black bandeau. She also had gashes to her forehead, with blood running into her right eye which was bruised and mostly closed. She had bruises and blood all over her body, and her hands were covered in it, as if it were running down from underneath whatever metal contraptions were covering her forearms. There was a metal cable running between them, and by the way her hands were cuffed behind her back, clearly they were some form of restraint. What the hell had happened?

 

Armada spit blood from her mouth in an attempt to clear it out enough to speak. “In the corner behind me,” she said and gurgled once more. “There's a breaker, go flip it to get the power on.”

 

Trunks did as told and ran over to the area she had indicated. On the wall was a metal box, already torn open by the looks of it. Holding his light where he could see it, he flipped the switches one by one, and the lights in the hangar slowly began to turn on. With the lights on, he let his energy dissipate and turned back to his comrade. She was still kneeling about a meter from one body, the other was about five meters away and crumpled against the wall of the hangar.

 

Trunks ran back over and knelt by Armada once more. “What happened?”

 

“Cut the cable,” she said lowly. Trunks hesitated for a moment before he realized she meant the cable connecting the two cuffs on her arms. He quickly moved behind her, grabbed the cable, and ripped it out. He looked at the cable briefly, it appeared to carry an electric current.

 

With her hands free in front of her, Armada slowly rose to both feet, placing her right hand on her right knee to stabilize herself on the way. She slowly approached the body closest to her and bent down on one knee next to him. She rolled him over, and Trunks could see that the man's nose was broken, and brutally so—he had blood running down the front of his clothes much the same as Armada. She reached inside several of his pockets before she found a small tablet.

 

“I'm not sure how they snuck in,” she finally spoke as she browsed the contents of the small personal computer. “They cut the power. When I left the ship to take a look, I was ambushed. They hit me in the head with a shock rod which threw me off long enough for them to put AEM cuffs on me.” She paused her tale momentarily as she apparently found what she was looking for, and with a few more button presses the cuffs unlatched themselves and she threw the tablet and the cuffs down to the floor.

 

“ _Kami_ ,” Trunks said breathlessly when he saw what had happened underneath. Each cuff had four metal hooks— _bloody_ metal hooks—that left four matching wounds in each of Armada's arms. She ran the fingers of her right hand over the wounds on her left arm. From the amount of dried blood, Trunks could tell it had been downright horrific, but now her blood had coagulated and the bleeding from the wounds had stopped. Some time ago, from what he could tell, which means that she was attacked sometime shortly after he left. A thought hit Trunks; what if her assailants were waiting for him to leave? What if he had _given_ them the opportunity?

 

Trunks shook his head in shock, still staring at the bloodied cuffs that had fallen on the floor. “I don't understand,” he started and turned his gaze up to his comrade, “how did this happen?”

 

In the full light of the hangar, it was clear that Armada had been badly beaten. She had bruises all over her arms, chest, and abdomen, and her right eye was swollen shut. Her face was mostly covered in blood, especially the amount that had trailed from her mouth. It looked like she had taken some serious internal injuries.

 

Armada turned her gaze away from her injured forearms and up to Trunks. “Anti-energy manipulation restraints. AEM cuffs,” she started and nodded toward the restraints he had helped her remove. “How do you think they keep people like you and me from just destroying everything in sight?” To be honest, Trunks hadn't given it much thought thus far. Armada leaned over and spit more blood from her mouth. “They have ways to control our abilities. These are a fairly inexpensive one, it's just hard to get them on your target. But once you do,” she trailed off. “If you try to use your energy, the hooks sink in and give you a huge electric shock—equal to the power you're trying to control. It converts the energy you manipulate into electricity to power the restraints. The more you struggle, the worse it gets.”

 

Trunks's gaze fell. He got it. He understood. She was basically tortured in the short time he was gone. Somehow she had managed to kill her attackers, without her strength behind her... a miracle in and of itself. Yet she acted like this was just another day, just another explanation of something as mundane as the hours of the day. But more importantly, she needed treatment—she had serious injuries, and that was putting it mildly.

 

Trunks reached out toward Armada to help her make her way into the ship and to the infirmary—no, she needed a hospital—but she immediately took a step back from him and raised her right arm in a defensive stance. “I can handle this,” she ground out somewhat angrily.

 

“You need to go to a hospital, you were beat nearly to death!” Trunks shouted in return. He wasn't sure why her actions infuriated him, but they did. Why did she have to be so goddamn stubborn?

 

“I don't need a hospital, and I don't need _your help_ ,” she spat. “This doesn't involve you. I'm going to take care of this... don't touch anything,” she finished and flew toward the ship. Immediately Trunks sensed that her energy was chaotic, all over the place, like she had trouble controlling it. Which would make sense based on what she just told him about the restraints she was in when he found her.

 

When she had disappeared into the ship, Trunks turned his attention back to the two bodies laying on the floor in the hangar. He wouldn't be dissuaded so easily.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Interlude: Detective Work

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks closed the gap to the first body, the one Armada had searched and pulled the tablet from which apparently controlled her AEM cuffs. The man looked to be about his age, maybe a little older. His nose was badly broken, the type of break that probably sent bone fragments into his brain, the cause of his death. He did have blood splatter on his clothes outside of the fountain that had drained itself from his nose, but Trunks suspected that it wasn't his blood. Rather, it was his comrade's blood from the man beating her. The thought made Trunks's blood boil; they beat someone who had diminished ability to fight back. Then again, somehow she managed to kill him... which in a weird way made Trunks proud of her. She didn't give up, she fought back no matter what. She wouldn't be an easy kill... he knew that feeling all too well.

 

Searching the first body came up with nothing, so Trunks stood and stepped over to the next. On his way over, he noticed a piece of bloodied white cloth laying on the ground. He bent down and picked it up, and after looking at it for a few moments he realized it was Armada's shirt. They must have ripped it off of her. At first he was unsure as to what good that would do, but when the possibilities started to flitter in, he felt sick. Sure, people wanted Armada dead, she was a mercenary—but torture, and... _worse_... it made his anger flare again. Why? What was the point in all of this?

 

He set the torn shirt down and approached the second body. This one was facing up, leaned partially against the back wall of the building. A shock rod was sitting nearby, so it looked like this was the one who had initially hit her. Again, the young man appeared not much older than Trunks himself, although this one had a shaved head. As Trunks knelt down to take a closer look and go through the man's pockets, he noticed a knife embedded deep into the man's chest. It looked like it was thrust up under his ribcage from a low angle, and shoved in past the blade's hilt. It likely punctured his lungs, because while there was a good deal of blood near the wound, it wasn't enough to think his cause of death was blood loss.

 

After a quick search of the body, Trunks found two items of interest. The first was an ID. He'd seen these before around Ute; it was a digital ID almost like a tablet or smartphone itself but that only carried identification information. Since the other body carried no ID, this might be a good place to start to figure out who these men were affiliated with and why they were after Armada. The second item Trunks found was a watch. He wasn't sure what time system it was for, because it didn't match Bmyhad's system. But it was broken, and it had a symbol inscribed on the back. More interestingly, it had a wrist band, but the man kept it in his pocket. This watch likely wasn't used as a watch, and perhaps the symbol the back may help identify who these men were.

 

Trunks stood and shoved both items into his right jacket pocket. There was only one place he knew to start looking if he was going to get this ID read. Trunks just hoped he would catch him before he left the office for the day.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Murtole yawned as he attempted to finish typing up the latest report on his research. It didn't need to be done by tomorrow, but he liked to have it done early so he could go back and review it before it was finally due. He took another sip of his coffee before he turned to see who those footsteps he heard approaching belonged to.

 

“Trunks,” Murtole said with a weary smile. He didn't bother to rise, he was too tired from all the hours he had been putting in lately with his research.

 

Trunks returned his friend's smile, although nervously. “Hey.”

 

“What's up?” Murtole asked, smile still present on his face. Trunks may have known, although Murtole hoped he didn't, that Trunks was one of Murtole's only friends. He was the nerdy kid in school who continued to work hard in his career and, well... he never got out much.

 

Trunks stopped when he reached Murtole's desk. He hestitated a moment, before reminding himself that he needed to find out what was going on. The Earthling pulled out the ID he'd pulled from one of the corpses back at the ship's hangar, and set it on the end of Murtole's desk. “I need help with this.”

 

Murtole instantly knew what it was. His gaze fell. “I'm sorry, I can't,” he said slowly. “I mean, if I do, put my whole career on the line, I-I could get arrested...” Murtole trailed off.

 

“No, no, it's fine,” Trunks tried to reassure his friend. _What the hell was I thinking?!_ Trunks mentally berated himself. _Of course he can't do anything, Murtole is a good kid. He obeys the law... what was I thinking, trying to get him caught up in this. Kami, I'm a dumbass._ “Don't worry about it,” Trunks said hastily as he picked up the ID and put it in his pocket.

 

“I,” Murtole started in a near-whisper, “I have a friend, though. We went to school together. If he can't do it, then he'll know somebody who can.” Murtole reached over to another area of his desk and pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen. He wrote on it briefly before holding it out to Trunks.

 

Trunks took the paper and looked at it as Murtole spoke. “That's his comm address. Tell him you got it from me, he's a friend so he should help you.” Murtole's gaze fell, and his countenance with it. “I'm sorry I can't do anything more for you.”

 

“No Murtole, this is great, thank you,” Trunks said in earnest as he put the paper away in the same pocket as the ID.

 

The pair let silence settle between them for a moment before Murtole spoke up. “Hey, Trunks... this isn't. I mean, she isn't making you do... bad things... is she?” the researcher asked with a pained expression.

 

Trunks was taken aback. Armada had threatened to kill Murtole. She was a mercenary. She was paid to kill people—among other crimes—and apparently she had no problem doing it. Was he going to fall into the same life of crime? He'd already broken the law countless times, and he was nowhere near paying back even one percent of what he'd cost Armada that day a few short weeks ago. But something in him had changed, something turned. Especially when her blooded body he found earlier flashed across his eyes. They could have killed her, and yet... they didn't. Why? Honestly, he wasn't even sure why he wanted to know. Something spurred him forward. And even at his friend's question, he wasn't going to quit now.

 

“No... don't worry about it,” Trunks said. Suddenly he realized that yes, he was probably a wanted criminal, right there with Armada. By standing here right now, he was putting Murtole at risk. He was putting Devan, and everyone at the lab, at risk. He'd already crossed that line, and now... he was putting his friends' lives and reputations in jeopardy by virtue of having anything to do with them. Trunks's face hardened. It was clear to him now what he needed to do.

 

“I'm not going to come around here anymore,” he said flatly. Murtole opened his mouth to protest but Trunks cut him off. “I don't want to get you guys in trouble.” He turned to walk away when one last thought occurred to him. “Tell my mom I'll contact her when I can.” With that said, he turned and headed out. And deep down, Murtole must have understood, because he never did say anything as his friend walked out of the lab.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After stopping at the lab, Trunks had then gone to get his own smartphone. He had no way to contact Murtole's friend without Armada knowing unless he had a separate communication device from the ship. And, someday, if he got it configured right, he may be able to send messages direct to his mother. After his first paying job with Armada, she had handed him a bank card and told him it had fifteen thousand beta on it. _So you can buy whatever you need._ He wondered what she'd think if she knew this was what he was spending it on. Well, she wouldn't care about the what, but the _why_. Which is why he had to be discrete about everything, and make sure he kept things locked away in his room should she decide to take a look around.

 

When Trunks got back to the hangar, he immediately smelled disinfectant. Glancing over to the area of the scene from earlier, he noticed the bodies were gone and everything looked exactly as it had before. Apparently Armada had cleaned up... he wondered what she did with the bodies, but after considering it for a moment, he figured he'd rather not know. Upon boarding the ship, Trunks went straight to his quarters to lock his things away. He had a locking cabinet built into the wall in his bathroom, which is exactly where he stashed everything. It was locked by a code he put in via a keypad locally, which he was certain Armada could override if she really wanted to get in. One thing he had noticed though, was that she never attempted to enter the barracks designated to him, nor did she ask questions about his belongings. It was a gamble, but he was fairly certain she wouldn't snoop around.

 

After leaving his room, Trunks paused for a moment. He didn't feel Armada's energy in the ship, but... below it? He focused a moment longer; no, she was in the ship, but she was in the cargo bay. Curious as to what she would be doing there, as opposed to resting from the beating she took, he headed to the back of the ship by the kitchen to jump down the ladder leading into the cargo bay. He landed softly, using flight to slow his descent. When he turned around the corner right by the ladder leading into cargo, what he saw stunned him.

 

Armada stood, no shoes, only wearing her black skirt and black bandeau, hair tied up on in a bun of her head. She made a few slow, deliberate motions that confused Trunks for a moment, until it hit him like a bag of bricks—she was training! In the short time they'd been together, he had never seen her do any type of training.

 

She moved slowly, and fluidly, more like she was practicing the motions. Occasionally she would take a few quick strikes, but then slow her pace again. The type of movements she was making, they seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. She seemed to not notice him, as she was totally focused on what she was doing. Trunks also noted the bandages covering both of her forearms, and the small bag of liquid taped to her left upper arm. It was some kind of IV fluid, as a small plastic line ran from the bag down to her left hand, where it was buried under the skin in the top of her left hand. As he continued to watch, he noticed that her movements were somewhat strained. Ever so slightly, her muscles would tremble. She would complete her motions, but it wasn't as smooth as it should be. _Of course not,_ Trunks mentally shook his head at her while his face displayed a disappointed scowl, _she's seriously injured. Her body is begging for rest and she's doing this?_

 

Armada kept her focus on her movements, turning away from Trunks once more as she spoke. “How long do you plan on standing there and staring?”

 

“You're an idiot,” Trunks said flatly as he moved closer to her in the room and away from the ladder leading into the cargo bay.

 

“That's rich, coming from you,” she said and finished three quick strikes before turning to face him.

 

“You could have died today—no,” Trunks restarted his thought, “you _almost_ died today. And you think now's the time for practice?” He was getting downright _angry_ , and honestly he wasn't sure why. He figured it was the blatant _stupidity_ of what she was doing.

 

Armada stopped and stood upright, ending the practice of her stance. “And who are you to tell me how to live my life?” She wiped at the sweat on her forehead with her right forearm, the bandages soaking up a decent amount of it. Trunks then noticed that her right eye was still mostly swollen shut.

 

“At least I know how to train properly,” he shot back, somewhat cooler than he felt underneath the surface. “You can't keep a simple form solid because you're shaking like a leaf.” He paused, and tacked on, out of irritation, “And who trains in a skirt anyway?”

 

Armada glared at him a moment before reaching for the hem of her skirt where it sat on her right thigh with her right hand. Trunks's eyes shot wide for a moment as she lifted it, only to reveal that she had black skintight shorts matching the fabric of her skirt on underneath. “This fabric is the same as my armor, it stretches as it needs to,” she added as she pushed her skirt back down. The two stood in silence a moment before Armada spoke again. “If you have nothing useful for me, then leave.” She turned away from him and settled back into her routine.

 

“Are you gonna tell me who those guys were?” Trunks asked, fully expecting to be told to shut the hell up.

 

“No idea,” Armada said, her eyes focused on some imaginary point in space as she stepped forward and turned, still facing away from Trunks. He knew this would go nowhere fast, and as irritated as he was with her, he simply turned and went back upstairs to the ship's main level. No need to argue with her, it wouldn't do anything other than irritate him further.

 

It was already getting late, so Trunks went to his room to call it an evening. When he entered his barracks and closed the door behind himself, his eyes lingered on his sword, sheathed and hanging from the top bunk of the bunk bed set. Memories came flooding back to him, of a younger version of himself, bloodied and beaten to near death by the androids, practicing slow steps and swings with his sword. He remembered how many times he would drop his sword and curse the pain, but pick it back up and keep pushing on, no matter how injured he was. Going through movements where his muscles shook from exhaustion, where he wanted to cry out in pain but decided instead to channel it into a mind-numbing focus on each move, each breath.

 

He understood. And he didn't care for the reminder of those times. When the world rested on his shoulders and he could do nothing but fail.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The next morning, Trunks was up and moving early. Armada was long gone, and Trunks was grateful. While he had come to terms with where his anger at her was coming from yesterday, he still felt unusually irritated with her actions. She didn't have to make things hard; _he_ was here, she could rely on him for help. It was frustrating that she refused him at every turn. She was stubborn to the point of stupidity... but he'd had his own moments like that not too long ago.

 

Trunks left the hangar and walked to his destination. He was headed for a park on the north edge of downtown Ute to meet with Murtole's friend. He had setup his smartphone last night and sent the first cursory message to the comm address Murtole had given him. Whoever was on the other end agreed to assist, and told Trunks to bring the item he needed examined and meet him there in the morning. And thus Trunks was taking his time walking through the city.

 

Ute was a gorgeous city. Granted the cities Trunks grew up seeing were all half destroyed, so anything would seem gorgeous in comparison, but Ute was different. The concrete was a very light gray, almost white, and everything was a mixture of that shining white and glass. The streets were clean, and Ute didn't have slums—he'd even asked Devan and Murtole about it. Walking through the city on a warm morning in the summer was fun. Fun was something Trunks needed more of in his life.

 

It didn't take long for Trunks to arrive at the park mentioned by Murtole's friend. He walked through until he found the bench specified in the message. It was a dark gray, and a different style from the rest of the architecture of the park. It sat just under a tree and about twenty meters from a fountain. Nobody was there, so he slowly approached and seated himself. Trunks sat and people-watched, just enjoying the weather. His home was still healing, but they were close—they were close to this level of normalcy.

 

A few minutes later someone who appeared to be just walking by took a sharp turn and headed straight for Trunks. He sat himself down on the bench next to Trunks and let out a contented sigh before he turned to Trunks and smiled. “You're Murtole's friend, right?” his voice was light and had a slight accent.

 

“Yeah,” Trunks said, somewhat shocked. This guy wasn't any older than him. He was a few inches shorter, from watching him walk over. He had short, wavy dark hair and wore black rimmed glasses, and was fairly thin. Not a malnourished thin, just like it was his natural build.

 

“Nice to meet you,” he still smiled brightly. “My name's Quarry, but call me Q.”

 

Q looked at Trunks expectantly, awaiting a response. Trunks wasn't naïve enough to give out his real name, so he quickly thought up a name to give Q. “I'm Toran,” Trunks reached out and Q took his hand and shook it briefly.

 

“Murtole is a dear friend of mine,” Q said, his gaze edging slightly away from Trunks. “If he sent you to me, I'll do my best to help you. Now,” he brought his hands together in front of him, “let's see what you've got.”

 

Trunks pulled out the ID he'd scavenged from the bald dead man and handed it to Q.

 

“Ah, well this should be easy,” Q said with a quick smile to Trunks before he reached back into one of his jacket pockets and pulled out what appeared to be a smartphone. He pulled the small retractable cable out from the ID card and plugged it into his smartphone. “Should only take a minute to decrypt,” Q added, “and then we'll know who you're looking for.”

 

Trunks was slightly confused. “We couldn't have just transferred the data remotely?” he asked. Meeting in person seemed kind of... risky.

 

Q shook his head. “Too easy to track over the network. Besides, this,” he moved the smartphone in his hand, “isn't online. It only connects to a database I've created that I keep on an entirely separate network.” Q turned back to his smartphone. “Oh,” he said with a look on his face that Trunks couldn't interpret but he knew wasn't good.

 

“What?” Trunks finally asked.

 

“It seems I already had the key for this encryption protocol,” Q replied. He stared at his phone a moment and swallowed thickly before he looked at Trunks. “Do you know who you're dealing with?” he asked with a look of worry upon his face.

 

“No,” Trunks responded automatically. “That's why I'm here.”

 

Q sighed and tucked his lips in for a moment, letting out a deep breath. “Rieve. I've decrypted a few things of theirs before, so I already had the key for their encryption protocol, which is why it went so quick.” Q sighed again.

 

“What's Rieve?” Trunks asked with concern bringing his eyebrows together. He had no idea what Q was talking about.

 

Q looked at Trunks like he had just grown another head. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. “No,” he closed his eyes and shook his head briefly. “It's done,” he said and unplugged the ID from his smartphone and handed it to Trunks. “I've highlighted his real ID in green, so you can just go through the rest of it on your own time.” Q paused a moment. “But I suggest that if you don't know who Rieve is, that you take this back to where you found it and you get as far away from it as you can.” Q put his phone away and stood up.

 

Trunks hurriedly stood behind him. “What do you mean?” He was thoroughly confused.

 

“Do me a favor,” Q turned to look at him. “Don't take that anywhere near Murtole.” Before Trunks could respond, Q started walking away.

 

Trunks sat a moment and watched Q disappear into the crowd. He slipped the ID back into his pocket. What the hell was Rieve and why was Q so upset about it? Trunks was about to get up and leave when he realized something, and felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. He pulled his own phone out and pulled up a network site that functioned as an encyclopedia of sorts. He opened the search and spoke into the phone, “Rieve.” The application processed his voice command showed it searching for the word 'RIEVE.' A few seconds later the results came up.

 

What Trunks read should have shocked him, but sadly it didn't. 'RIEVE' was the name of an organized crime family, and a fairly accomplished one at that. He read on about their history, their exploits, how several police organizations had been working for decades to take them down. All of the information was unconfirmed, save a few members who had been taken into custody and flipped. The article stressed the unknown, as Rieve was still somewhat shrouded in mystery. Their name was well known through the mapped universe, but most of the information passed around was merely rumors. However, Rieve was estimated to have long reaching arms into many governments and nations across the universe. Just how far was unknown.

 

So Armada had pissed off an interstellar mafia. No surprise there, with her type of _work,_ if he could even call it that. Just what she had done to piss them off was still a mystery. Trunks decided at that moment that he would work to find out what was going on. Because if Rieve was half as bad as Q and the network entry made it sound, then he had reason to worry.

 

 

-+-

 

 

A short chapter, but a necessary one. Thanks for reading!


	7. Mission 05: Escort Service 2 [Senatorial Remix]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Armada accept an odd mission to provide a private escort for a Republican senator, which descends into madness.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks laid back in his bed, shoulders propped up slightly against the wall so he wasn't lying totally flat. He flipped through the ID again that Q had decrypted for him. With access to it, he found that the man who carried it had twelve fake identifications stored on the card, and one that Q had identified as the real deal. The information on just the collection of IDs didn't give him any new information. They were just fake names from different places around the universe. He couldn't help his desire to keep cycling through each one, looking for something. Then again, what would he look for? He knew nothing about the wider universe besides the stories his mother had told him of a few select planets, and the research he had done so far on his own of the system Bmyhad belonged to and its neighboring planets.

 

He had learned that the known universe was massive. And when he tried to search for 'Namek' on the network, he found nothing. He didn't dare search for the _other_ planet he'd heard of. Knowing what the Saiyan race did for many years under Freiza's army, who knew how many enemies were lying in wait, wanting revenge against a dead race. Besides, the planet Vegeta no longer existed. He may run the risk of the search only to find nothing in return.

 

Deciding he had wasted enough time today, Trunks got up to return the ID to the locking cabinet in his bathroom. Just as he had closed the cabinet door, he heard a knock at the door to his barracks. “Yeah?” Trunks called out without moving anywhere.

 

“Get out here,” he heard Armada call back.

 

Trunks scowled slightly. _She's so polite_ , he thought sarcastically as he walked out of his bathroom and to the door to his quarters. He opened the door and she stood on the other side waiting for him with her typical somewhat-pissed-off look on her face. Before Trunks could even say anything, she spoke.

 

“We've got another job. We're leaving now.” No sooner had the words come out of her mouth, she turned around and walked back down the hallway.

 

“Wait, where are we going?” Trunks called after her.

 

“Virda City. The ship departs now,” she said loud enough for him to hear her as she continued walking away.

 

Trunks sighed again. Why did this woman have to be such a pain in the ass? He followed after her toward the bridge. Once inside the bridge, he saw her seated at the main console as the ship's engines began to fire up. Trunks took a seat at the navigation console and rotated the chair to face her. “So what are our orders?” he asked casually.

 

“A senator from Virda City wants escorted to the Republic,” Armada stated flatly as her hands worked furiously to prepare the ship for launch. It was almost a spectacle in and of itself to Trunks, as he watched her flip between monitors and input commands furiously.

 

“What's our timeframe?” Trunks asked.

 

“It will take three days to get to Virda City, and a week from there to reach the Republic,” she replied as she moved both hands to the engine thrusters and pushed forward on both. The ship slowly began to lift out of the hangar. It only took about fifteen seconds for them to clear the roof and double-check that the door closed behind them. With everything locked down, Armada changed the ship's trajectory and put the engines on full blast for them to escape Bmyhad's atmosphere.

 

After a few minutes of mild turbulence, Trunks knew they had left the atmosphere and the gravity well when everything stopped shaking and the ship began a smooth, quiet ride. Armada began charting their course and setting up the autopilot. Trunks stayed seated as his hair started to float up around him. She never engaged the artificial gravity until they were a safe distance from the gravity well. She had explained once that if they were too close when it was activated, the planet's gravity could destroy the artificial gravity generator in the bottom of the ship.

 

Once she had the coordinates locked, Armada turned on the autopilot and let go of the controls. “Two days and nineteen hours until we reach our destination,” she said before she pushed herself away from the pilot's seat to the wall just behind her. A few seconds after she reached the console at the rear of the bridge, Trunks felt the familiar creeping motion of the artificial gravity kicking in. It was a comforting feeling—he didn't care for weightlessness. It made his stomach queasy.

 

As soon as the artificial gravity was on and Armada's feet set back down on the ship, she walked off toward the galley. Trunks sensed her heading for the cargo bay once again. He got up and headed back to his quarters. He hated these long flights; they made the days drag on.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 05: Escort Service 2 [Senatorial Remix]

 

 

-+-

 

 

“What's our status, Noran?” a dignified yet gravelly voice rang out.

 

Noran stood in front of his charge, Senator Ballasten, as they waited for their 'escort' at a spaceport orbiting Virda. The pair stood at the edge of a balcony overlooking the main concourse in the spaceport, looking for the mercenary they'd hired to travel with them to the Republic. Noran had his head down, checking the last communication he had received from the mercenary. “She should be here any minute now,” he said in even, cool tones. “Her ship officially docked seven minutes ago.”

 

“Good,” the senator responded, placing his left hand on Noran's shoulder. The senator was an elderly man, though he was not incapacitated any more than a healthy senior would be. He merely wanted to show Noran his approval.

 

Noran took and scanned the crowd, his eyes darting left and right, looking for her face. The picture he had studied was taken from security footage, in low light, and at an odd angle; but he knew he would recognize her. Another minute or so passed before Noran did a double-take upon seeing a blonde woman with sloppy hair walking down the concourse. “There,” he pointed discretely and looked to the senator. “That's her,” he reiterated.

 

The senator stepped forward and squinted his eyes to have a look. He was about to say something when his attendant interrupted him. “Who the hell is that with her?” Noran gripped the railing of the mezzanine tightly and scowled as he noticed a man with purple hair following closely behind the mercenary—close enough to indicate that they were indeed together. “She's always worked alone,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

 

“It's fine, Noran,” Senator Ballasten replied. “It won't change anything.” He shifted his weight on his feet and clasped his hands together in front of him. “We'll still accomplish what we had intended.”

 

Noran turned to face the senator and glowered. “I don't like unknowns,” he ground out darkly. If the senator didn't know better, he would have feared for his life from his attendant's tone alone.

 

“Calm yourself my child,” Ballasten said with an air of authority. “We'll get what we need. Some piece of space trash she picked up will hardly hinder us. Or you,” the senator added his last sentence while turning to look Noran in the eyes.

 

The senator was right, Noran realized. He needed to calm himself, and he took the first big steps to doing that by releasing the railing and letting out a deep, slow breath. He closed his eyes for a moment. They would do what they needed to on this trip, and he would plant the seeds for his own victory later on. The senator didn't need to know about that, but it was part of their agreement that when the time came, the mercenary be left to him. Noran opened his eyes and smirked. He could almost feel bad for her, knowing what he had in store. Almost.

 

Noran turned around and smiled at Senator Ballasten. “Let's go introduce ourselves.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada stopped walking when the pair arrived at the gates to 5-C, or the fifth concourse as she had explained to Trunks earlier. “This is it,” she said, putting away her tablet into a jacket pocket. She was wearing a cropped dark green jacket with her standard white shirt underneath. Instead of the usual skirt, she had loose-fitting black cargo pants that ran down to the floor. Her hair was pulled back in a braid save her bangs. Trunks was in his standard blue jacket, black shirt, gray pants—nothing new for him. “They said to meet at the gate,” Armada turned to look at Trunks.

 

“Two guys, the senator and one attendant,” Trunks recited back to Armada when she faced him. “Do we have any idea what these guys look like?” Armada opened her mouth to respond but was cut short from behind.

 

“My apologies,” a deep smooth voice rang out, “we couldn't risk leaking the senator's location.” Both mercenaries turned to see the man standing behind Armada. He had black hair and light brown eyes, and he was huge. He was a few inches taller than Trunks, but his build was very similar—both men being very muscular and fit. “I'm Noran, it's a pleasure to meet you,” he added with a smile and slight bow of the head to Armada. Armada inched slightly back from him and her eyebrows came together in immediate distrust. “I must say, you have quite the reputation, _Armada_ ,” he added on with a somewhat victorious visage.

 

“So I've been told,” Armada said flatly, still eyeing Noran warily. “This is Mace, he works for me,” Armada said glancing to Trunks.

 

Trunks was kind of shocked that she had given him a fake name, but then again the way Noran said her name made it sound like it was a good idea. Mace being her broker, it must have been the first thing that came to mind. Noran glanced at Trunks briefly and just as quickly turned his gaze away. “This is Senator Ballasten,” Noran turned to the elderly gentleman with him. “I'm sure you understand that for security purposes we couldn't reveal his full identity to you ahead of time,” Noran added.

 

“Well, let's be on our way,” the senator cut in. Senator Ballasten wasn't short, but average build, with a bit of extra weight around his midsection. He had thin hair, and it was all white. The wrinkles on his face indicated his age, but he kept his visage mostly unmoving. Then again, being a politician, he was likely very practiced at keeping his reactions guarded. “It's not exactly a short trip,” the senator said with a smile.

 

Armada immediately spun around and walked off, leaving the rest of the group to catch up. Trunks looked at Noran who open glared at him, before he followed behind the senator who was the first to follow Armada. Trunks quickly fell into step at the rear, keeping his eyes fixed on Noran. He and Armada had already talked about this; something was clearly going on beyond a simple escort mission. Why else would a Republican senator hire a mercenary?

 

“ _You realize it's a trap, don't you?” Trunks asked Armada in the bridge as she piloted the ship into dock at the space station orbiting Virda they had agreed to pick up their charges at._

 

“ _Of course,” she answered plainly. “Senators from the Republic are the highest elected officials in that nation. They represent entire planets. Senators have access to unlimited money and security. There's no reason for this, except that they are planning something that requires a gullible mercenary.”_

 

“ _Then why did you accept?” Trunks followed up. While everything she just said made sense, the question still needed answered._

 

_Armada turned to look at him. “Because we're smarter and stronger than they think. We won't fall for whatever their trap is, and we'll get paid.”_

 

Trunks was deep in thought but still kept a close eye on their small line the short walk back to the ship. When they arrived, Armada led the senator in who followed without issue. However, at the door Noran stopped and stepped to the side, as if he were waiting for Trunks to pass. Trunks stopped short and waited; he wasn't going to fall for something so simple. The two exchanged cold stares for a minute before Noran finally turned without a word and walked in. Trunks followed after him.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada quickly introduced the senator and his attendant to the third unused barracks on the ship, and let them know it was theirs. She also gave them a very concise rundown of the rules, which basically consisted of their required presence in their room at all times. Meals would be delivered to them, and if they docked at any space stations on the way they must be escorted through the ship by Armada. Trunks smirked at the look on Noran's face, as the man seemed positively furious that she would impose such restrictions on him. He started to complain when the senator silenced him, but Armada added on anyway, “If you don't like the accommodations, then leave.” Nobody said anything after that.

 

The first two days passed without incident. Armada cooked meals and brought the senator and Noran food, which Noran seemed none to pleased about. Trunks knew Armada's cooking; it wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. It was just edible. Probably garbage compared to what a high powered, ultra rich politician is used to. And though he hadn't heard anything directly, he was sure they weren't enjoying the bare-bones military style quarters they were given.

 

Trunks stood in the galley leaned back against the counter a meter away from where Armada was currently preparing the next meal. “You think they'll put up with this another four and a half days?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“No,” Armada replied as she continued her work, not bothering to look at him. “But that's the point. They'll get angry. And sloppy. And whatever they thought they were going to do, they'll either rush through it or let their anger make them forget about whatever they've planned.” She finished her preparation and began filling two trays with food.

 

Trunks thought for a moment before speaking. “Well they're not going to do much in there, so you're planning on letting them out.” She only nodded in response before walking out of the galley carrying to trays of food. Trunks followed close behind.

 

Noran was already waiting when Armada opened the door to their guests's quarters, and as usual he looked unhappy. Armada handed him the two trays, and as Noran turned to walk away from the doorway, she spoke. “We're going to stop at orbital platform LN4195 to refuel and pick up supplies. We'll arrive in about an hour. You and the senator are welcome to disembark if you'd like while we're there.” Without giving Noran a chance to respond, she closed the door and turned to walk away.

 

Once the mercenaries reached the bridge, Armada stopped and looked at Trunks. “That will give them enough time to figure out how to execute whatever they're thinking about.” She paused momentarily, before adding, “And I need you to play dumb.”

 

“What do you mean?” Trunks asked..

 

“Clearly they already know something about me,” she said, glancing down the hallway toward the barracks. “You're the unknown. They don't know anything about you. So we need to make sure you continue to be a mystery,” she finished.

 

“So what are we doing once we get to the space station?” Trunks followed up once again.

 

Armada turned to him once more and smirked. “Just follow my lead.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Having finished their meals, and only having about twenty minutes left to plan before the ship arrived at the space station, Noran and the senator tried to plan out their next move.

 

“Clearly she's toying with us,” Noran said in annoyance as he paced in the room. “We've been locked in here like criminals thus far and now suddenly we're stopping for supplies and she's letting us out? A ship like this wouldn't need to refuel on this short of a trip.”

 

“Calm down Noran,” Senator Ballasten responded from where he sat on one of the beds in the room.

 

“I can't calm down sir,” Noran stopped pacing and faced the senator. “This ship uses an ID scrambler, so we can't pull its signature,” he tossed his tablet to the senator who caught it with ease. “We don't know what kind of armaments it has, and we can't find anything similar to it,” Noran continued. “If we can't replicate the ship, that throws a serious wrench into things,” he finished and let out an exasperated sigh.

 

“We just need some good images of it, yes?” the senator asked as he tooled away on the tablet that Noran had tossed him.

 

“That would be a good start, seeing as we have nothing so far,” the attendant replied as he ran his right hand through his hair. “The question is, where are we gonna find that? Between our entering and exiting the ship, we haven't gotten a clear look at it, let alone a picture,” Noran said more to himself than the senator.

 

“How about this?”

 

Noran snapped around to look at the senator, who held out Noran's tablet. Noran closed the small gap between them and took the tablet from his senior's hands. What the senator had pulled up was video from a news report from some country in the Alliance. Noran played the video once, then twice, when he saw it—right at the beginning of the video he saw Armada and Mace fly out of harm's way and into a ship. No, _this_ ship, it was just a regular metallic silver in the video instead of the black it was now. A smile slowly crept into Noran's face. “Oh, you put me to shame, sir.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

In the space station, Trunks and Armada sat at a table in the food court area inside the terminal. They both watched the senator and his attendant, sitting at a table on the other side of the terminal, probably about fifty meters away. Trunks finished taking a drink of his water, and asked, “You know what they're planning yet?”

 

“No idea,” Armada said without turning her gaze away from the senator and Noran. “But that guy's not normal.”

 

“Who, Noran?” Trunks asked while looking at the senator's assistant, or whatever he was. “Sure, I mean, he doesn't look like your standard personal assistant,” he added.

 

“That's because he's not,” Armada said, still watching Ballasten and Noran interact in between her own sips of water. “He's an energy fighter like us,” Armada spoke again. “You can tell from his gait; the way he walks. He's almost too muscular though, like he's sacrificed speed for power. Not a smart move,” she finished.

 

Trunks sighed, remembering his own mistake from a few years ago like Armada was speaking about him. “Yeah, I know a little about that,” he added with a slight hint of shame. Armada turned to look at Trunks, her face showing a mixture of confusion and curiosity. She opened her mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted by gunfire.

 

The mercenaries' heads snapped up as people began screaming and diving for cover. On the mezzanine overlooking the food court, a small group of young men—five, or six? It was hard for Trunks to be certain—had pulled out what looked like assault rifles and pistols and fired into the ceiling of the installation. “Ladies and gentlemen,” one young man with very light blond hair shouted out as he leaned over the railing holding an assault rifle in his hands. “If everyone stays calm and keeps their heads down, we'll be out of your way shortly. Thank you.” As soon as he finished his orders, the group scattered from the top of the mezzanine and headed for the nearby stairs to the lower level.

 

“What the hell do they...?” Armada trailed off as she was interrupted by Trunks.

 

“The senator,” Trunks said and nodded in the direction they had been watching only moments ago. Armada turned to look to see Noran was still there, but he was glaring in another direction. Armada followed his gaze to see the senator already twenty meters from Noran, standing calmly as two men guarded him, one with an assault rifle, the other with a pistol.

 

“Damnit,” Armada growled, “these stupid kids. Probably some gang that noticed a senator on the station.” Before Trunks could say anything else, Armada looked to him once more. “Stay here, and don't do anything. Noran doesn't know anything about you, and we need to keep it that way.” She pushed her chair back and stood up, looking around the station as people ran for their lives beneath panicked screams. She turned back to Trunks one last time, “On second thought, if you can stay under their radar, move closer to the senator.” With that, she took off running through the crowd toward the stairs coming down from the mezzanine. Trunks took his cue and got up, and headed toward the senator through the throngs of screaming civilians.

 

Noran saw Armada headed through the crowd toward the stairs that several of the armed instigators were currently headed down. His eyes narrowed; he certainly didn't trust a mercenary to handle this issue with grace. He had to do something. Noran shot another glance to the senator, who nodded in response so slightly his captors missed it. Noran turned and started to push his way toward Armada.

 

Once Armada reached the stairwell leading upstairs on the right side of the terminal, she waited briefly. The kids with guns didn't let off anymore energy than their normal lifeforce, so she figured they weren't energy fighters. For that she was glad, because if she had to take down half a dozen careless energy fighters in a space station... well, it wouldn't be easy. She heard several pairs of footsteps coming down lazily, and since the terminal was clearing of bystanders by this point she knew it had to be at least three or four of the seven would-be bandits she counted on the mezzanine when they first made their move. She stood back, just behind the wall separating the stairwell from the rest of the terminal, and waited for them to appear around the corner. As soon as she saw a fourth young man step down, she sprung into action.

 

Picking off the one in the back first, since he had an assault rifle, Armada rammed the palm of her right hand into the base of his spine. The kid barely had time to shriek in pain before he fell to the ground, incapacitated. The other three turned, but no sooner had they looked upon her, Armada had them on the ground with three quick, solid uppercuts to their abdomens—hitting each in his diaphragm, taking the air from his lungs. As they each fell, Armada shot energy blasts at each of their weapons, destroying them.

 

No sooner had she finished this task, Noran was upon her. Before Armada could speak, he swung at her and she barely missed blocking his punch. Taking a strong right hook squarely in the center of her face, Armada jumped backward to put some distance between her assailant and herself.

 

“What game are you playing at mercenary?!” Noran shouted in anger. At this, his energy flared and began to whirl around him in a pale green aura. “Now you lose your life for crossing me!”

 

“Stop, you idiot!” Armada shouted back after wiping at her face, a smear of blood beneath her nose. “If I'd wanted you or the senator, I'd have done it myself. I wouldn't hire some ragtag band of kids with guns to do it. If you're half as smart as you think you are, you know that,” she said but kept back in her stance, ready for Noran to attack again.

 

Noran clenched his teeth and his right fist in front of his chest momentarily before he let go of his energy and it dissipated around him. “Fine. Now we need to find the rest of these punks so we can get out of here.”

 

Trunks had managed to clear some distance between the senator and his two new bodyguards and where he and Armada were moments ago, but not all of it. The crowd cleared up before he got all the way there, so he ducked behind a long planter where he could still see the senator but the gunmen couldn't see Trunks. He was contemplating when to make his move when the armed guards spoke up. “Holy shit, that woman just took out Curi!” one of them exclaimed.

 

“What should we do?” the second asked, and Trunks suddenly felt a spike in energy that he wasn't familiar with. A quick glance over the planter in that direction revealed Noran standing with his energy raised, and Armada a few meters away wiping at her mouth. Trunks scowled; he had no time to deal with that issue when he still had to get the gunmen away from the senator. Noticing they were distracted by the spectacle before them, Trunks took the opportunity.

 

He appeared, seemingly out of nowhere to guys guarding the senator. With two quick chops across the back of their necks, both men were knocked out and fell to the ground. Senator Ballasten took a step back from Trunks and had what appeared to the demi-Saiyan to be an actual display of emotion on his face. The senator looked purely shocked. Trunks didn't bother to say anything in response before he flew over to where Armada and Noran appeared to be having some sort of showdown.

 

Just as Noran powered down, Trunks appeared between him and Armada, his back to his comrade. Noran narrowed his eyes at 'Mace.' _I didn't sense him at all, not even when he flew over here..._ Noran thought with deep curiosity. Before anyone had the opportunity to speak, Trunks sensed three more people coming down the stairs on the other side of the mezzanine. His head whipped around in their direction, and in less than a second he was upon them.

 

“Oh shit!” one of the kids managed to yell out before Trunks took them out without seriously injuring them. With their weapons on the ground, Trunks stomped on the two assault rifles and one pistol the three carried between them, destroying them.

 

“Good work,” Armada said as she ran up behind Trunks. He turned to see Noran stalking their direction with anger written across his face.

 

“I don't think he's gonna agree with you,” Trunks said and motioned toward the senator's attendant with his head. Armada spun around and glared at Noran as he approached.

 

“Very cute,” Noran spat as he closed the gap between himself and the mercenary pair. “Trying to make yourselves look good in front of the senator? By what, beating up a bunch of kids barely out of their diapers?” He stopped two meters away from the pair. “We're not so easily fooled.”

 

“We had nothing to do with this, you _asshole_ ,” Armada spat in return. “And you're lucky I don't kill you for that cheap shot,” she added, referring to the sucker punch he landed on her when she was busy trying to ensure _his_ senator's safety.

 

“You, kill me?” Noran shot back. “You don't have—“ Noran began, but his insult was interrupted by the sound of several dozen heavily-armed security guards bursting into the terminal from the security doors beneath the center of the mezzanine. The security guards immediately leveled their weapons at the three energy fighters standing over three kids still groaning in pain.

 

“There's no need for any of that.”

 

Everyone turned to see Senator Ballasten slowly walking over to the group. One security guard in particular, the only one not wearing a face mask Trunks noticed, stepped forward and lowered his weapon. “Senator Ballasten, my deepest apologies for everything that has happened here, sir.”

 

“It's quite all right,” Ballasten replied in that gravelly yet diplomatic voice of his. “My personal security was quite able to handle the situation,” he said, turning his gaze to the three energy fighters who were indeed with him.

 

Understanding what he meant, the apparent head of the security group raised a hand to signal to his men. “Stand down, they're with the senator.” Immediately, the rest of the security guards lowered their weapons and stood at ease. “Grab these kids and get 'em in cuffs,” he called out. “And get this place cleaned up.” The security guards sprang into action, and the lead officer approached the senator. “If there's anything we can do, sir, please let me know.”

 

Senator Ballasten had a look of utter indifference on his face. “Oh I believe our ship has probably finished refueling by now, I think we'll simply be on our way.” It was his way of indicating that he should be left to leave before the security lockdown that was surely in place now was lifted.

 

“Of course sir, we'll clear your ship to leave right away,” the officer responded. He then turned to direct the rest of his contingent regarding the kids they were dragging away in cuffs who, for those that weren't still unconscious, moaned in pain or actually started crying. Trunks suddenly felt a little guilty; he may have hit them harder than he needed to.

 

“Noran!” the senator nearly shouted in what Trunks figured was his 'I'm a little upset' voice. Noran gave one last glare to the mercenaries before he stepped over to the senator, and the pair headed toward the gate which led to the mercenaries' ship. Armada gave Trunks a quick glance before she followed behind their charges. After all, they still had a job to finish.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After getting everyone back on the ship, and in the case of the senator and his guard dog, locked away in their rooms, Armada disembarked the ship from the space station and they continued on their course. As soon as she finished programming the autopilot to take over, she sighed heavily and let herself sink back into the pilot's chair. She reached up and gingerly touched her nose, trying to determine if Noran had broken it. She cursed herself for letting down her guard.

 

“You okay?” Trunks asked from his seat nearby at the navigation console.

 

Armada let out a sigh and fixed a glare on her comrade. “I can take a punch just fine, thanks.” She closed her eyes and ran her fingers along the sides of the bridge of her nose. “It's not broken, so it's fine.” She paused a moment. “It's my fault anyway, I shouldn't have let my guard down.” _That bastard_ , she added mentally and narrowed her eyes as she kept her gaze on their autopilot course.

 

Trunks stood up from his seat. “Well Noran's an idiot anyway,” he changed the topic slightly. “If he really thinks we would hire some kids with guns to try and kidnap the senator.” Trunks shook his head and stayed silent a moment. “What the hell are they after, anyway?”

 

“They're trying to make a replica of this ship,” Armada looked up at Trunks from where she sat. He noticed that the redness in her face was already starting to dissipate.

 

“Why?” Trunks asked. “And how do you even know that?” he followed up before she could reply.

 

“I bugged their room,” Armada answered his second question first. “And I don't know. There's nothing particularly special about this ship.” She leaned forward and stood up slowly, flexing the muscles across her shoulders as if they were sore. “We've only got a few more days,” she stated. “We just need to keep them locked up and make sure things stay quiet.” She walked away and headed for the rear of the ship down the hallway passing the galley and lounge. Trunks wondered why she wasn't quite as concerned with them trying to make a replica of her ship... there could be no _good_ reason to do so.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Going back to the schedule they had in the beginning, where Noran and Ballasten were locked away all day with the exception of meal deliveries, things had stayed quiet. They were only three hours out from their destination, a space station just outside sovereign airspace of the GaReXa Republic. Trunks sat back in his bed, lights out in his room because he was supposed to be sleeping. But there was too much to think about, and he was wondering about how his mother was doing back home. So he left the door to his barracks open, listening for whenever they did eventually arrive at their final destination.

 

He heard Armada's footsteps in the hallway, and realized she had stopped at the door to the room currently occupied by one senator and one jackass. He listened closely as she opened the door and spoke.

 

“We'll be arriving at your requested destination in approximately two hours and forty-eight minutes,” she said flatly. “Please have payment ready before you disembark.”

 

“Wait,” Trunks heard Noran's voice call out followed by heavier footsteps approaching the door. “Come with us,” he said lowly, almost like he was trying to keep someone from hearing him. _Not someone_ , Trunks realized, _the senator._ Trunks sat up in bed and focused his senses to listen a bit more closely. “I've never met anyone like you,” Noran continued. “I... want you with me.”

 

“I-I don't know,” Trunks heard Armada respond. She sounded... flustered, almost embarrassed. Trunks's face contorted into pure confusion as he listened on. _What the hell is this?_ He thought in shock and concern. He'd _never_ heard Armada speak like that, let alone sound like—dare he say—a woman.

 

“Think of everything we could accomplish together,” Noran said, almost breathless. Did this guy... did he _like_ Armada? Trunks's mouth hung agape in shock; was this for real? He actually pinched the top of his left hand with his right, just to make sure he was indeed awake and not dreaming.

 

“Noran, I, I need to tell you something very important,” Armada said lowly, and Trunks still couldn't believe what he was hearing. Where was Armada, and _who the hell_ was talking to Noran? Because it sure as hell wasn't the woman he'd gotten to know for the past six weeks.

 

“The next time I see you, I'm going to gut you like the coward you are,” Armada ground out darkly. Trunks shook his head and almost _laughed_ ; she was messing with him! Now the world made sense.

 

Noran almost growled. “You _stupid bitch_ , you have no idea what you've just given up.” Trunks had a hard time trying not to laugh as he envisioned the embarrassed and enraged look on Noran's face. Armada just made him look like a fool, and it was rather glorious. “You'll regret this.”

 

“The only thing I'm going to regret is not killing you now,” Armada answered, “and strangling that fat old man who drags you around like his dog.” She smirked, “Of course, maybe you _like_ that sort of thing—”

 

“Pray you never see me again,” Noran cut her off, rage rolling from his words like steam from a boiling pot. “Because if you do, I will unleash cruelty upon you so unspeakable, you will _beg_ me to kill you.”

 

Trunks heard Armada laugh darkly. “Says the man who just begged me to stand at his side.” She paused a moment, but continued “If you truly knew anything about me, then you would know that I would die a thousand painful deaths before I served under someone again for one second. I am a hurricane of death and cruelty, and anyone who crosses me winds up dead or wishing they were dead. I am nobody's tool,” she finished and with that Trunks heard her press the button to shut the door in Noran's face. Immediately he heard her footsteps walk away.

 

Trunks laid back against his pillow and laughed out loud, albeit quietly. He just wished he could have seen the look on Noran's face. He felt somewhat _proud_ of his comrade, even if what she did was mean. Hell, if anyone deserved it, it was that guy.

 

 

-+-

 

Trunks stood next to Armada, closest to the door of the ship. Directly across from him on the other side of the door stood the senator with his guard dog behind him. Armada looked up from the tablet she was using and addressed the group. “The transaction is verified. We're good.”

 

The senator nodded in that fake-appreciative way politicians are good at. “Thank you for your services.” With the transfer confirmed, Trunks opened the door, and the senator let himself out.

 

Noran stepped forward, and smirked at Trunks as he 'accidentally' bumped his shoulder into Trunks's shoulder. The contact only lasted for a moment, but that was all that was needed. Noran let his internal shield down, and when he made contact with Trunks, the Earthling was able to sense just how deep the well of Noran's power went. It was disconcerting; not because he was any match for Trunks, because he wasn't. But in a one-on-one fight with Armada, Trunks wasn't sure she would survive.

 

Noran glanced over his shoulder and shot one last smirk at Trunks before Armada pressed a button on the console next to the door which caused it to shut. “Smug asshole,” Armada spat before she turned and walked into the bridge. Trunks couldn't help but laugh at her comment. His mother used to say, hell have no wrath like a woman scorned. Maybe one day Armada would kill him, and it would be a hell of a fight.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading, please leave a review! Good, bad, or ugly, I like all kinds of feedback. :>


	8. Interlude: Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Trunks is almost killed by the group chasing Armada, the mercenary goes on the offensive.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Two days after dropping off the senator and his attendant, Trunks and Armada were headed back to Ute. The trip directly to Ute from the edge of the Republic would take eight days; longer than the trip from Virda City, but shorter than the entire round trip of Ute-Virda City-Republic. Armada was sitting in the lounge behind the one table in the small space, typing away into a small laptop computer. Trunks wasn't surprised to see she hadn't moved in the few minutes it took him to go back to his room, pick something up, and walk back to the lounge; she had been sitting at that computer for close to six hours now. And with nothing to do, and no politicians and bodyguards keeping their attention occupied, he was bored. So he decided to change things up a bit.

 

Trunks walked into the lounge and threw down a small box on the table next to Armada's computer. It landed with a loud smack and slid slightly. Her eyes immediately pulled away from the screen to look at the box he'd thrown down. "What's this?" she asked, her eyes tracking up to his as he stood in front of the table.

 

"Playing cards," Trunks said with a triumphant smile.

 

Giving him a wary look, she reached over and picked up the box. She opened it, and a deck of cards slid out, with symbols on them that she had never seen before. She looked back up to him, her face full of guarded confusion, but he spoke before she had a chance to say anything.

 

"They're mine," Trunks began. "They're from my homeworld," he amended.

 

"And you think I'm going to play cards with you?" she said slowly, almost mechanically.

 

"Why not?" Trunks countered. "What else do we have to do to kill time?"

 

Armada immediately looked down and put the cards back into the box, folding the opening back in to seal it. "I don't know this deck, I don't know how to play," she started into her excuses, but Trunks didn't let her finish.

 

"I'll teach you," he said while moving to sit at the side of the table to her right. He took the deck of cards from her hands and pulled them out of the box once more. "It's easy, you'll catch on quick," he said as he started to shuffle the deck. He knew she would resist. Anything that might be the slightest bit of fun seemed to be a no-go for her. He knew he'd have to work this in tactically. But now that he had her attention, her first excuses to say 'no,' he was ready to go in for the kill. "Unless," he said as he stopped shuffling and looked up at her, "you're afraid to lose."

 

Her eyes snapped back up to his instantly. She shut the lid of her laptop and pushed it aside to her left, out of the way of the 'game area' Trunks was beginning to setup. "I'm not afraid of anything," she said flatly. "Deal me in."

 

Trunks smiled as he looked back down at the deck of cards in his hands and started dealing them out. "Okay. I'll go easy on you the first few rounds."

 

"I only need one round to learn the rules," Armada replied. Trunks could have laughed at her predictably competitive nature. "Now explain what it is that you're doing," she added, referencing his dealing of the cards.

 

It only took one round for Trunks to explain the rules of five-card stud, a variant of poker. Armada caught on quickly. They played a few hands while Trunks continued to explain the rules, and which hands were ranked higher than others. Armada finally told him to 'get serious,' at which point he laughed but agreed. They played in relative silence, but it was a nice break to the monotony for Trunks, so he didn't care if she wasn't much for conversation. It beat playing solitaire.

 

"Where are you from?" Armada suddenly asked as she dealt the next hand.

 

Trunks kept his gaze down on his cards as she finished dealing the hand, thinking about how to respond. Since the Bmyhadians had found his home, Earth, he had learned quite a bit about Earth's place in the galaxy. Apparently it was part of unmapped space, called the Frontier, at the edges of the GaReXa Republic. The Bmyhadian explorers and scientists who found them had been contracted out by the Republic to do their research in that region. Bmyhad was part of the Federation Alliance, a small nation composed of six star systems and a few independent satellites and space stations. The Alliance was bordered by the three major nations in the universe; the GaReXa Republic, LOKI, and the Roffeler Empire. Compared to these nations, the Alliance was new and tiny, almost at the center of mapped space. Which is why the Bmyhadians had to go through the Republic to explore uncharted space.

 

"You're not from Ute," Armada said as she examined her cards. "You're not a Bmyhadian; they aren't very adept at controlling energy, and you're too clueless about some basic things to be from Bmyhad. So where are you from?" she repeated herself and locked her gaze with his.

 

"A small planet in the Frontier," Trunks replied. He didn't want to give out the name of his planet, lest she try to look it up for less than savory reasons. While the threat she had laid upon Noran two days ago was funny, he hadn't forgotten about the way she described herself. _A hurricane of death and cruelty_. She wasn't someone he was jumping at the opportunity to trust with sensitive information. "The Bmyhadians found it while charting space under the Republic's jurisdiction," he added as he set down two cards to the side to draw two more. "What about you?" Trunks asked, knowing the opportunity wouldn't rise again anytime soon to try and pry some information out of his employer.

 

"I'm not 'from' anywhere," she replied flatly, setting down one card to draw one more. "Never lived in the place I was born," she added while examining her hand.

 

Trunks wasn't surprised at her non-answer. She didn't trust him any more than he trusted her... which he supposed was fair. "How long have you been in Ute?" Trunks asked, examining his hand and realizing he was likely going to win this round. "Would you consider it your home?"

 

After the first few rounds had been played without betting, Armada pulled out a stack of empty bank cards so they could at least have something to bet by proxy. Real money wasn't at stake, but at least having some kind of counter made it feel more real when they placed their bets. Armada took two bank cards and threw them in the pot. "Raise. I had been on Bmyhad for twenty-two months before I ran into you," she answered him. "I was about to leave, actually, when you helped Dax rob me."

 

Trunks tossed in two bank cards, then another four. "Raise. I forgot that you knew that guy. How do you know him?" Trunks asked earnestly.

 

Armada's face scrunched up a bit as she thought about what to do. She threw in the four cards Trunks had tossed in. "Call. Dax and I served in the military together," she added while setting down her hand on the table face-up. She had two kings and two sevens, for a hand of two-pair.

 

 _She's ex-military_ , Trunks thought as he set his hand down face-up on the table as well. He had a straight-flush, three through seven of diamonds. _That explains a lot._ "Damn," Armada cursed as she saw that she had lost the hand. She reluctantly pushed the pile of plastic cards over to Trunks. It was then Trunks's turn to deal, so he collected the playing cards and began to shuffle.

 

"By Utian time, it's getting late. You may want to get some rest," Armada looked up at Trunks as she spoke.

 

Trunks continued shuffling for a moment, when a thought hit him and he stopped. "What about you?" he asked, fixing his gaze on hers. "I don't think I've seen you sleep once, in what, two months?" Oddly he'd never given it a thought, but he had realized even during moments when he was awake and should have been sleeping, she was seemingly always up. If he didn't already know better, he'd wonder if she was a robot. _Or android,_ he thought with a mental cringe.

 

"I learned to live on very little sleep," she replied automatically. "Hard to get restful sleep," she began as she moved to the side and stood up from her seat, "when all you do is have nightmares." She didn't spare another glance at Trunks and walked away.

 

Figuring that was the end to their game, he shoved the deck of cards into its box and shoved it in a jacket pocket. It was certainly interesting, what she said. Armada was the type to put on airs that everything was put together and under control. Why would she suddenly let down that veneer to him? Or rather... did she not realize she had let it down?

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Interlude: Breakdown

 

 

-+-

 

 

Days on the ship in space absolutely crawled, and Trunks was beginning to hate it. He just didn't like being away from fresh air, natural gravity, and other things he'd taken for granted seeing as how he wasn't raised in space. So as he walked through the open air market in Ute next to the river, he felt renewed. Nothing was better than fresh air and sunlight, and the freedom to enjoy both. He and Armada had arrived back in Ute during the night, and he had immediately gone up to the roof of the ship's hangar to get some air. Ute's climate was very pleasant right now, as summer started to come to a close. It was supposed to be the rainy season, but as the local weather reported, things had stayed oddly dry, but not enough to be of concern. Ute had seen showers, but not the raging thunderstorms that were expected this time of year.

 

After enjoying some early morning star-gazing, Trunks went back inside and slept for a few hours. Now, in the late morning, he decided to head downtown to walk around an enjoy a beautiful day. It wasn't that long ago that walking around in the open like this on his home, Earth, was impossible. And if that's why he felt so damn sentimental about it, he didn't care—he just wanted to enjoy the day.

 

After spending a few hours downtown, and carrying a large bag of fresh fruits and vegetables, Trunks returned to the hangar. As he approached from down the street, he noticed a truck pull up and park in front of the front entrance to the hangar. Trunks kept walking, and as soon as he reached the truck a young man in a uniform stepped out of the open side door of the truck carrying a package.

 

“Oh hey,” he called out to Trunks, “you live here?” he asked as he took a few steps closer to Trunks and the door to the hangar.

 

“Yeah,” Trunks replied promptly.

 

“Oh good,” the young man sighed in relief, “when I was driving up I was wondering where I was going to leave this.” He raised the package slightly at the end of his sentence. “Can I get you to sign for it?”

 

“Sure,” Trunks said and moved his bag of groceries to his left hand to free his right hand to sign with. The delivery man held out a tablet with a signature field already ready to go and handed Trunks a small stylus. He used it to sign, and signed 'Mace Son,' figuring he shouldn't use his own name and coming up with something on the spot. As soon as he signed, the delivery driver took his tablet and stylus back, and handed Trunks the package.

 

“Thanks bro!” the young driver called out as he stepped back into his truck and drove off. Trunks looked down at the package; it was nothing special. Maybe four inches thick, the box was about the size of a large book, and maybe half as heavy, wrapped in brown paper. Trunks tucked the package under his arm and punched in the security code to unlock the door to the hangar.

 

Moments later, inside the ship, he set the package down on the table in the lounge and proceeded into the galley carrying his bag of groceries. It appeared that Armada had left sometime after he did earlier, and since the package was likely for her he just left it where she would see it if he didn't get to tell her about it first. Trunks spent a few minutes putting his groceries away, then went to the lounge to catch up on local news. He sat at the same table as the package, paying it no mind as he caught up on some of the latest news and weather reports for the area while snacking on what he considered an apple, though it was a bit sweeter and softer.

 

After about thirty minutes, Trunks started to feel tired and yawned. Admittedly he didn't get good sleep while on their trip to the Republic and back, so he shut down the terminal in the lounge and headed back to his room to get some rest. No harm in taking a nap when absolutely nothing was going on. As he walked into his room, Trunks threw off his jacket and tossed it onto the lower bunk bed that was unused as she strode over to his bed. He kicked off his boots and flopped down into bed. It was already fairly warm in the ship, so he didn't bother pulling up the covers, but just laid down on his stomach and wrapped his arms around his pillow. Sleeping in normal gravity felt wonderful, and he was all too happy to rest.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After some time, though he had no idea how long, Trunks started to wake up. He tossed and turned, suddenly feeling very hot. His mouth was dry and he was sweating profusely. Finally he opened his eyes and decided to get up, because his thirst was becoming unbearable. As soon as he sat up, he felt himself drift to the left, as if his whole body were off its axis. His head felt like it was full of water, and he reached up to place his right hand against his forehead. _What... the hell...?_ he thought in confusion at his condition. He felt fine earlier, now he felt like he'd baked in an oven for several hours and someone had hit him in the head hard enough to destroy his balance. Trunks forced himself to his feet, and immediately swayed. He managed to take a few steps to grab the wall next to the door to prevent himself from falling over completely.

 

He opened the door to his room, determined to get to the galley and grab some water. His body ached for it at this point. He pulled himself upright using the door frame, and began walking down the hallway, using the right side of the hall for support. He felt himself spinning out of control in one direction, while it felt like the ship itself swayed in the other. He breathed heavily, and his hands—no, arms—no, his _entire body_ shook violently as he tried to make the trip to the galley.

 

Suddenly his limbs started to feel heavy, like the heaviest metal on Earth and he stopped walking. He couldn't will himself to move forward; he couldn't call upon his energy to help him. Each time he tried, it immediately fizzled out, like he was trying to grab bubbles and hold them in his hand only for them to burst and disappear into nothing. Leaning completely against the wall of the ship, he gritted his teeth. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and he had to figure out what. Because at the rate he felt his health declining, he was pretty sure it would only stop once he was dead.

 

“Hahh!” Trunks let out a yell as he pushed one more step forward, only to fall completely to the ground. After he collapsed, he lifted his head slightly to look down the hallway into the bridge. His vision blurred, and he could barely make out what he was looking at.

  
Was it really coming to an end like this? He was, arguably, the strongest being in the universe, and here he was being taken down by some mysterious illness? If he could, Trunks would have laughed at the irony. It all made sense. This was some cosmic balance coming into play. He saved Goku, the strongest warrior of his time, from a heart virus, only to succumb to something similar. Apparently somebody was meant to die like that. Maybe that was it; you couldn't escape fate, you could only push it off onto someone else.

 

As his eyes fell shut, Trunk's left hand clenched into a fist and he thought of his mother, Bulma. She was going to be so angry with him.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada opened the door to the ship and immediately in her view was a hand, attached to an arm that lay out of her view to her left. Her eyes shot wide and she stepped inside to find Trunks laying in the hallway. “Trunks!” she shouted out to him as she took one knee at his side. He was laying face down, so she turned him over onto his back and held his head up. He was breathing heavily, but they were shallow, quick breaths. His skin was almost burning to the touch, and he was drenched in sweat. _He's sick,_ Armada thought as her eyebrows came together. She set his head down gently and flew to the infirmary.

 

On her way, something caught her eye in the lounge and she stopped. There was a small package wrapped in brown paper sitting on the table. Her eyes widened in shock, and she immediately realized what was going on. He wasn't sick; he'd been _poisoned_ , and that meant there was nothing she could do to save him.

 

She flew to the galley and grabbed a large plastic bag. With the bag in hand, she returned to the package, and using the bag to shield her hands, she lifted and tossed it into the bag. She hurriedly tied it off, and flew back to where Trunks lay in the hallway. She lifted up his back first, so he was in a sitting position. Keeping her left hand on his back, she turned to face him and put her right arm around his chest to his back, underneath his left arm. She then stood, lifting him up with her, and his body weight fell into her. He wasn't too heavy for her to lift; she had the energy to expend. The problem was that he was about five inches taller than her, which made him awkward to carry.

 

Armada hefted him up a bit higher, so her arms were wrapped around his waist as his head hung over her left shoulder. She then reached down to pick up the bag with the package in it, and started flying backwards to make sure she got him out of the doorway all right. With that obstacle cleared, she closed the door to the ship and headed down to the main entrance of the hangar. There wasn't time to load him up into the car and drive... she'd just have to fly there. Which she hated to do, because it draw all kinds of attention to them. But if his condition was any indication, they didn't have time for discretion right now. Besides, she already didn't want to do what she was about to do, but it was the only way to save him at this point.

 

She took him to the hospital.

 

 

-+-

 

 

When Trunks finally willed his eyes open, he whole body ached. If he had to guess, he would have said he'd been smashed under one of Ute's giant skyscrapers, or dropped into the deepest trenches of the ocean where the water pressure would liquefy his bones. As his vision finally decided to obey him and focus, he started to take in his surroundings. There were lights above him, but they were turned off. The room was still pretty well-lit, and the ceiling was white. So were the walls. That was when Trunks realized he wasn't taking breaths; something was taking breaths for him. He tried to lift his hands, which didn't happen—but he felt his hands twitching in response to the command.

 

“Take it easy,” Trunks heard and suddenly his vision was filled with that of a man with dark hair and glasses looking down at him from his right side. The voice sounded far away, and it echoed in his brain like it was being projected into his skull. “You're still way too close to death to try any of that,” the man spoke once more. If Trunks had to guess, this guy wasn't much older than himself. But who was he? And where was he?

 

Trunks felt a hand on his right hand, and it squeezed lightly. “You feel that?” the man asked. Trunks tried to nod, and while he was sure he was unable to do so, the man responded with “Good,” as if he had understood the Earthling's futile attempt to move. “But you need to lie still until we finish getting the contagion out of your system.”

 

 _Contagion?_ Trunks thought in confusion. What the hell had happened?

 

The man's attention was dragged away from Trunks's face for a moment. “Well, your blood pressure's rising, and we can't have that right now,” he finished and turned back to Trunks briefly before walking away. “Just relax, let your body heal,” Trunks heard the man speak even though he was out of his line of sight. Seconds later, Trunks's eyelids felt heavier than whatever thing had crushed him, and he couldn't stop them from rolling shut.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The next time Trunks opened his eyes, he didn't have to struggle. Not only could he open his eyes without any real effort, he was able to sit up, albeit leaned back on his elbows. A white sheet slid down his chest, which was bare, and Trunks looked around the room. From the instruments he saw, his bed, and the intravenous fluids line running into his chest, he was able to quickly deduce that he was in a hospital. It was no hospital on Earth, though, because it seemed a lot more high tech than what they had at home.

 

Ute. Bmyhad. He was in Bmyhad. Everything came back in a rush. He and Armada had just gotten back from their last job. He'd gone downtown, he signed for a package, he went to take a nap, and that's when all hell broke loose. But how did he end up here? He briefly remembered collapsing while trying to get to some water, but nothing after that besides waking up where he was now.

 

Before he had a chance to really think about it, the door to his room slid open, and a young man not much older than himself with short dark hair and glasses walked in. He wore a white lab coat, not unlike the ones Devan and Murtole wore. “Good, this time it wasn't a false alarm,” the man said as he strode in and walked over to Trunks. He looked a console sitting near Trunks's bed for a moment, before he turned to Trunks. “You want to sit up? Here let me adjust your bed,” he said and with a few button clicks Trunks felt the bed moving. After a moment it settled in a spot so that when he leaned back against it, and off of his elbows, he was still sitting upright.

 

“I'm Dr. Rema,” the man finally spoke to Trunks, “and you were in pretty bad shape.” He paused a moment before continuing, “What's your name kid?” Trunks was confused, but before he could say anything, the doctor spoke once more. “She didn't tell me your name, just threatened to kill me and destroy the hospital if you didn't wake up. I'm used to her threats, but this time it seems kinda personal,” he finished with a laugh.

 

Dr. Rema spoke forcefully and quickly. Trunks was still kind of in shock as to everything that was happening. But more importantly, “Who?” Trunks asked. His voice came out a lot smaller and weaker than he thought it should.

 

Dr. Rema eyed him warily for a moment. “Who brought you here?” he supplied. “Armada. You know her. At least I'm assuming you do because she doesn't normally threaten to kill me and mean it.” Trunks sat soaking in the information for a moment. “Yes I know who she is,” Rema preemptively answered a question he figured his patient was about to ask. “I've treated her before. But your name, kid, you got one?”

 

This doctor seemed kind of... unorthodox, to put it mildly. He was very blunt and abrupt, for a Bmyhadian. The few that Trunks knew weren't like this at all, so he thought it may have been a cultural thing. Leave it to a doctor to prove him wrong.

 

“Toran,” Trunks answered. It couldn't hurt to give out a fake name.

 

“Toran, nice to meet you,” the doctor replied, still standing at Trunks's bedside. “Like I said, I'm Dr. Alten Rema. I've been treating you since you were dropped off here at First Mercy of Malleas Hospital eight days ago. Do you remember what happened?”

 

Trunks shook his head briefly before letting out a breath and letting his head fall back against his pillow. “Not really. I had just come back from the market by the river. I was tired, so I took a nap, and when I woke up,” he trailed off.

 

“You left out the part where you signed for a package,” Dr. Rema cut in. Trunks opened his mouth to speak but the good doctor cut him off at his knees. “That package was poisoned with a biochemical agent,” Dr. Rema stated flatly. “The other guy, the one who delivered it to you? He got here too late. He's dead.”

 

“ _Kami_...” Trunks said under his breath as his gaze fell.

 

“It was an attack,” Rema continued. “Although I don't think it was meant for you, and neither does she.”

 

“Armada, where is she?” Trunks looked up at Rema once again.

 

“Hell if I know,” he replied. “She dropped you off and stayed long enough for me to take your case and threaten me, then she bailed. That's generally the script when she drops someone off for me, although...” the doctor trailed off as he averted Trunks's gaze.

 

“What?” Trunks pressed. He wanted to know what the doctor seemed reluctant to say.

 

“Although usually she only wants them to survive so she can either interrogate them or turn them in for bounty,” he added. “You're the first one she's brought me that she wanted to live for... well... to live, I guess, hell if I know what she's thinking,” he added on. “Anyway, how do you feel?” Rema changed the subject to the true matter at hand.

 

“Tired, but... good,” Trunks answered honesty.

 

“Excellent,” Rema replied and turned back to the console. “I'll have you discharged this afternoon. But you can't use your power for another two days,” he added and looked to Trunks. “You're not fully healed yet.”

 

Trunks was shocked; he didn't know what to say. What did this doctor know about him, exactly?

 

Rema laughed, “Oh don't panic kid, treating people like you is what makes my life interesting. A nurse will be in shortly to get your prepared to leave.” Dr. Rema smiled at Trunks before he turned and walked out the door with a careless sense of speed.

 

Trunks let out a deep breath. He almost couldn't believe what had happened, especially since apparently eight days had passed and he remembered none of it. Being hospitalized in critical condition for more than a week, he knew that meant it was bad. Trunks lifted his right hand and flexed the muscles, clenching and relaxing his fist. He wondered if he didn't have the speedy healing of his Saiyan genes if he would have survived. Clearly a normal person wouldn't, if the delivery driver's death was any indication.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Several hours later, Trunks was finally walking back into the ship. At the hospital, they only had the clothes he was wearing when he was brought in, a tank top, a pair of pants, and a pair of underwear. Thankfully they had disinfected his clothes instead of just incinerating them. They found a pair of shoes in the lost and found that would fit him, though he was fairly certain “lost and found” meant people who died and nobody claimed their belongings. He only needed the shoes to get back to the hangar, from there he'd toss them out.

 

While Trunks was still careful to not exercise his energy use just yet as Dr. Rema had instructed, he could sense that Armada wasn't in. As he walked down the hallway to his quarters, he noticed that the ship smelled weird. Almost like... chemicals. When he entered his room, it became abundantly clear as to why that was.

 

The chemical smell was much stronger in here, and the sheets had been stripped from all the beds, washed, folded, and left on each bed awaiting placement. On his bed, the one that wasn't part of the bunk beds set, his belongings were all sitting out on the bed. Trunks walked over and picked up his blue Capsule Corp jacket, and it unfolded in his hands as he lifted it. Clearly Armada had cleaned the entire ship, which explained the smell. He was slightly shocked though, that she hadn't simply burned his things and told him to buy new. That was what he expected, at least. Instead, everything was here, neatly folded, just waiting for him to return.

 

He felt a twinge of guilt. She could have let him die. And sadly, he half expected her to. Instead, she saved his life—she took him to the hospital. She cleaned the ship. She _took care_ of his things, the key being care. He wouldn't have given her enough credit to do all of this before. Dismissing the thoughts, because he had things he needed to do, Trunks set his jacket down and kicked off his borrowed shoes. It was early evening, and he was starving; it was time to make something to eat. He headed to the galley, leaving his things to be sorted and put away later.

 

If Trunks had taken a closer look at his belongings, if he had gone into his bathroom and opened the cabinet he kept locked, he would have seen the ID and watch he had recently recovered were both gone.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Grelb was thrown backward into a wooden table, which splintered underneath the force with which he was thrown, and he crumbled to the ground with it. The young man, with his brown hair cut almost short enough to be considered shaved, tried to raise his head slightly and face his assailant. Blood trickled down into his right eye from a gash in his forehead, opened when she'd bludgeoned him with a shock rod. He was drenched in water from his neck down to his torso, from where she had subsequently half-drowned him in a sink to wake him up after knocking him unconscious with the aforementioned shock rod. He wasn't sure what was next as she stalked toward him, but he was sure it wouldn't be good.

 

Armada reached down and grabbed Grelb by the blue collar of his jacket, lifting him up off the ground and into the air. His hands hung limply at his sides; he was in no condition to fight back. She'd already barged in and killed six men, Grelb was the only one she didn't immediately murder. Instead, she was trying to beat information out of him. And in her opinion, it was only a matter of time before he talked.

 

“How'd you get the address to send the package?” Armada asked calmly but with murderous rage simmering just beneath the surface. Grelb only stared at her, saying nothing. Armada let go of his jacket, and before Grelb's body had a moment to react to gravity and begin to fall, she had her hand around his throat. He immediately coughed; her grip reinforced her intentions.

 

“Do you want to be a rotting corpse like the rest of your friends?” she asked with that same, even but barely contained dark rage filled tone. Grelb stayed silent and choked for air. Armada clenched her teeth and her grip on his throat. “I don't have the patience to deal with you today! Tell me what I want to know or _I'll rip your lungs out with my bare hands!_ ” she screamed loud enough to shake the building, or at least Grelb thought the building shook.

 

Grelb brought his hands up slowly to her arm, trying to indicate that he couldn't speak with her vice grip around his neck. In response, she dropped him to the ground. He sat up halfway and coughed, until Armada leaned over him and backhanded him across the face with her armored right forearm. His mouth immediately began to fill with blood from her strike, and she lowered her face to his. “Speak,” she ordered.

 

“Tracking you for months,” Grelb managed to blurt out between coughs as he gingerly held his throat with his left hand. “Dax got the money, but Rieve wanted blood,” he added, finishing with gasps.

 

Armada realized, as she suspected, that the biochemical attack was only the start of an onslaught. “Who did they send?” she asked the local cell leader for Rieve in Ute. Grelb only coughed in response, to which Armada's gaze filled with fury. She stood upright and stomped on Grelb's abdomen with her right foot, which he responded to by crying out in agony.

 

Grelb wrapped his arms around his sides and rolled over slightly, desperately fighting to breathe. She had collapsed his lungs with that last hit, and he couldn't speak until he regained lung function.

 

“Finding it hard to breathe?” she taunted maliciously. “I can fix that for you,” she leaned down so Grelb could look into her eyes, “but you've got to work with me.”

 

Unable to bear the pain of suffocating any longer, Grelb nodded furiously. Armada turned and grabbed an empty syringe lying on the floor. She bent down over Grelb and stabbed him in the chest with it, slightly left of center. She pushed down on the syringe, forcing air into one of Grelb's collapsed lungs. He immediately gasped for breath, but the unbearable pain hadn't quite subsided, as his right lung was still useless at the moment. She then yanked the syringe out, and Grelb's body twitched.

 

Armada reached down with her free left hand and grabbed Grelb by the jaw. “I won't ask again. Who did they send?!” she shouted at him with a fury that made him pray that his reinforcements would arrive soon.

 

“I don't know his name,” Grelb managed to spit out between clenched teeth as the mercenary held him by his jaw. “He's an elite, part of Rieve's personal squad. He was supposed to arrive a couple hours ago,” Grelb croaked out before he started coughing again.

 

Armada dropped him. Despite being the Utian cell leader, he was still a low level lackey. If he knew anything, that would be the sum of it. Before Grelb could say anything else, she thrust the syringe into his chest, this time into his heart, and much farther than just the needle. Grelb gurgled up more blood for a moment before falling silent. Armada let out a breath, and turned to leave.

 

Before she had turned fully, she was met with a shock rod in her face. The force was far greater than a normal shock rod, and Armada stumbled backwards, both temporarily stunned and blinded by the force. She immediately felt hands scrambling for her, so she lashed out and attempted to jump back and away from where she perceived the threat to be. Unfortunately, just as her vision returned, someone managed to clamp down one half of a set of AEM cuffs on her left arm. However, with her armor on, the cuffs couldn't seal properly and their hooks couldn't penetrate her armor. The one cuff still managed to shut down her use of her energy, but it wouldn't stop her from fighting back.

 

Just because she could fight back didn't mean she'd get away without any injuries.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Later that night, well after Trunks had eaten and gone to bed, he awoke to a noise in the hangar. Immediately he sensed Armada's energy, and jumped up to meet her. He ran down the hall to the entrance to the ship and opened the door. He saw lights down below, and when they shut off he realized that she'd pulled the car into the hangar. He flew down to where she had parked, and his eyes widened at the grisly sight that greeted him.

 

She had collapsed over the steering column, and when she sensed he was standing next to the vehicle, she brought her eyes up to look at him, gasping for breath. She reached across her body with her right hand to open the door to the car, and Trunks almost felt sick when he saw the amount of blood running from a large cut in her left side. She had her left hand on it, trying to apply pressure, but blood ran down freely like an open faucet.

 

“What happened?!” Trunks near screamed in shock as he reached out to help her get out of the vehicle.

 

She immediately smacked his hands away with her right hand, leaving smears of her own blood on him. “Don't touch me,” she ground out through clenched teeth and harried breaths, glaring at him with an intensity Trunks had not seen from her before.

 

Trunks was now possibly just as enraged as she was. She was bleeding out, practically dying, and she was acting like a petulant child? He wasn't going to ignore her. He reached in and grabbed her by her left upper arm and dragged her out of the vehicle, quick enough that she could hardly react. That didn't stop her, though, and no sooner had he dragged her to her feet, she swung at him with a right hook.

 

Trunks easily caught her right fist with his left hand, and growled. He was cut off before he had a chance to speak, however, when she shouted at him, “I don't need your help!”

 

Trunks's eyes widened in shock. This... was she really doing this again? The pressure of everything, of not understanding her, of not getting what was going on, of nearly dying, laying in the hallway of the ship saying his own mental goodbyes to his mother and friends back home—it caused him to snap at her in a way he hadn't snapped in many years. “ _What the fuck's the matter with you?!_ ” he screamed right back at her. His words echoed through the hangar, and they both froze.

 

After she stood still for the briefest moment, Armada started to struggle against his grasp and opened her mouth to speak. Realizing that words and reason were lost on her, Trunks did the only thing he could think of. He released her right hand and before she had time to react, he threw a swift uppercut into her abdomen.

 

Armada's eyes widened as the wind rushed out of her lungs, shocked that he'd actually _hit_ her. She sputtered and fell forward, collapsing into Trunks's arms. “I'm sorry,” he said, knowing she didn't have the energy to fight back. “I'm sorry,” he repeated again as he pulled her close to him and flew back up into the ship with her in tow.

 

Once they were in the infirmary, Trunks set her down on the steel table in the center of the room. She still gasped for breath, and when Trunks made eye contact with her, she glared at him. He ignored her and turned to the cabinets housing the miniature hospital's worth of medications and bandages, only to find to his shock that the cabinets were empty. When he went to make his dinner earlier, he noticed that the galley had been completely emptied. He thought nothing of it, and just went out and bought more groceries, figuring that she had gotten rid of everything in an effort to decontaminate the ship. He never considered she would do the same with their medical supplies.

 

“Where is everything?” Trunks turned to Armada and asked in a panic, though he was certain he already knew the answer.

 

“Had to decontaminate the ship,” Armada replied through clenched teeth and strained breaths. She struggled to sit up, and reached for the latch on her chestplate. Trunks stepped over to her and helped her remove her chestplate. With that aside, Armada then pulled the black fabric of her underarmor down her torso to reveal the wound in its full glory. It wasn't as bad as the amount of blood loss led Trunks to believe, but it was bad—she would need stitches at the last, and they had nothing.

 

“You wanna help asshole,” Armada said as she put pressure on her wound with both hands now, “then listen carefully. In the cargo bay, there's a small black box with a handle, it says 'electrical' in red lettering. Grab that.” Trunks started to leave until she called out, “Wait, one more thing. The lockbox in the hall,” she continued, and Trunks knew what she was talking about. That was their 'safe,' it was where they kept their earnings. “The code is two-three-five-zero-seven-seven-one-three-eight, grab the bottle that's inside.”

 

With his orders given, Trunks flew down the hall into the cargo bay. He knew Dr. Rema said to not use his energy for two more days, but using this little bit for quick bursts of speed, or throwing a punch, was nothing, and hopefully it wouldn't effect anything. He saw the box in the cargo bay on the back wall, sitting on a work bench. Snatching it, he flew back upstairs and stopped at the lockbox in the hallway across from the infirmary. He quickly punched in the code, and inside was an unmarked glass bottle, among other things. He grabbed the bottle and flew back to the infirmary.

 

Inside the infirmary, Armada was now sitting upright, and she had removed her arm guards and the top half of her underarmor, leaving her in her black bandeau from the waist-up. She quickly took the bottle and black case from Trunks. First, she opened the bottle and started gulping down its contents, blood smearing on the glass from her right hand as she held it. With half the bottle gone in a flash, she then removed her left hand from her wound and poured some of the liquid down into her sliced open flesh. She winced at the pain, and from the smell Trunks understood just what was in the bottle—alcohol.

 

She set the bottle down, then proceeded to open the black box. Inside was a wiring kit, with several gauges and types of metal wire. Armada grabbed the thinnest gauge of wire inside the box, and started pulling several meters loose before she bent the wire and ripped it apart from the spool. With no needle to guide her, she just used the sharp tip of the wire and began stitching her wound shut. Noticing right away that she was struggling to hold the wound together and stitch it shut, Trunks reached in to help. He forced the edges of her cut together, and held them there so she could sew the wound closed.

 

In a few minutes they were done, and Armada laid back against the steel table. She was still breathing heavily, but after a moment she finally spoke. “Cargo bay,” she said while looking at the ceiling, “there's a crate marked ACI-5426.” She didn't have to say anymore, Trunks flew back down to the cargo bay.

 

When he found the crate she indicated and opened it, he found the same packets of artificial blood they had kept in the infirmary. So while they didn't have everything they needed, apparently she stockpiled artificial blood. Trunks quickly returned with just one box of the fluid from the crate, as the crate contained four boxes. He set it down on the counter inside the infirmary and pulled out a packet, and prepared it for her.

 

He turned around to face her and took her left arm to insert the needle. This time she didn't fight him, and once it was in, he hung the bag of fluids on the rack attached to the operating table she laid on. She wanted to move, she wanted to yell at him, she wanted to go hide in her room, but all of that took strength and energy and motivation she didn't have at the moment.

 

After a few minutes, her breathing slowed to a more normal pace, and she finally spoke. “That was a cheap shot,” she said, looking into his eyes from the corner of hers. It was infuriating to suffer two cheap shots from men recently; something like this rarely happened for her, and now she had two in such a short period of time.

 

“I know,” Trunks replied, his face sullen. He could almost feel the anger emanating from her.

 

She stared at him a moment longer before turning her face away from him completely. They sat in silence for twenty? thirty? forty minutes? Trunks wasn't sure how long, but it was long enough for the artificial blood bag to empty into Armada's system. She was feeling significantly better already, so she stood up and walked over to one of the chairs in the infirmary, carrying her bottle of alcohol with her.

 

Trunks brought over another bag of artificial blood and connected the line that was already inserted into her arm. Armada sat back in the seat and took a long drink of whatever alcohol was in that bottle. Trunks leaned against the counter over by the operating table, keeping his distance from Armada. “You don't have to babysit me,” she finally spoke up.

 

“No, I don't have to,” Trunks agreed, “but I'm here.”

 

“You're an idiot,” she said between still slightly strained breaths. “You should let me die, then you wouldn't owe me anything.”

 

“I'd still owe you my life,” Trunks replied quickly. He stared at her with a look of guarded anger.

 

Armada's gaze turned away from him. “That bastard doctor never listens to what I tell him,” she cursed and took another drink from her bottle.

 

“Like that matters,” Trunks responded. “Who else would have gotten in here to find me?” Logically, she was the only other person who had access to both the hangar and the ship.

 

Armada rolled her head around to glare at Trunks. Her face was red, and at first he was concerned until she spoke again. “I can't afford for my _merchandise_ to be damaged,” she said with a little difficulty. Trunks would have been insulted, except that he realized she was drunk—which made sense, as the bottle was almost empty. He was surprised, until he thought about it and surmised that she was drinking as a painkiller, seeing as how she had dumped their entire stock in the infirmary. She took another drink, finishing off the bottle, and set it on the floor while turning away from Trunks so he couldn't see her face.

 

“Whatever your reasons, I'm still here. Thank you,” he said sadly. What was her game? What was the point of all of this? She saved his life, and he was grateful, yet she wanted him to leave her to die at the first opportunity. None of it made sense. Unless she was insane, which Trunks would be lying to say he hadn't seriously considered several times now.

 

Realizing she wasn't going to say anything more, Trunks left the infirmary. She was in somewhat stable condition. As he walked back to his quarters, he realized he still had her blood all over his hands and clothes. So there would at least be a shower before he went back to bed.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading, please leave a review! :>


	9. Interlude: Downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armada purposefully leaves Trunks behind to take on a personal fight that she has no hope of winning.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

-+-

 

That whole poisoned-by-a-biochemical-attack-and-almost-died episode had put more hurt on Trunks than he realized. After dealing with the mess Armada brought back with her and going back to bed, he slept until late morning. He never really slept this much, even after the androids and Cell were gone and he had nothing to worry about back home. The only explanation was that while he felt fine, he _was_ still recovering.

He didn't spend much time getting up and getting breakfast before he started checking things out around the ship. He could sense Armada was down in the cargo bay, so clearly she hadn't run off yet, but he still expected her to. He took a quick look outside the ship in the hangar at the car, it was now parked properly and totally cleaned out. It smelled almost like it was new, and yet he knew it wasn't. The infirmary was cleaned up as well, and everything smelled like disinfectant. Trunks had slept for six hours after that whole debacle, and while part of him wasn't shocked to see everything taken care of already, he was still a bit disturbed by it. When he left her, she had lost a lot of blood and was drunk. In six hours she had accomplished all of this?

Noting that the infirmary was still empty for supplies save the one box of artificial blood he'd brought up from the cargo bay, Trunks figured their first job today would be to resupply the ship properly. Which required talking to Armada. Which he wasn't particularly keen on at the moment, since he figured she was still mad about that punch. She clearly wasn't the type to let things like that go easily.

Trunks jumped down the ladder into the cargo bay, and saw Armada leaned over and focused intensely on something at a machine near the workbench in the back. From where he stood all he could see was her back. He walked over, and took note of her condition. Her ki felt even and stable, though suppressed as his always was. She had bandages wrapped around her abdomen covering the length of the slash that he had helped her stitch up earlier this morning. He wasn't sure where she'd found bandages, but then again he had no idea what was in the crates stocked in the belly of the ship.

As Trunks approached, the machine stopped momentarily and Armada moved something. When he got around the side to see what she was doing, it suddenly became clear. She was sitting at what looked like a highly sophisticated version of a sewing machine. She had a set of goggles on, and used a foot pedal to make the needle move on the black fabric she was holding underneath it. Without taking her attention from her task, she spoke over the noise of the machine. "What?" she said tersely.

"What are you doing?" Trunks couldn't help but ask. Really, a sewing machine? It couldn't be as simple as it appeared.

"Repairing my armor," she answered automatically. "I have to reattach the individual threads to restore the fabric's integrity." Surprisingly, she didn't sound too angry. Well, at least for the moment.

"Wow," Trunks said without thinking as he watched. Recreating the individual threads then reforming them in their proper weaving? It was a little intense to watch. No wonder she needed the goggles.

Armada pushed her right foot down slightly and ran the machine for a few seconds before she stopped. She sat up and pushed the goggles back and on top of her head before turning to look at her fellow mercenary.

"I've got a list of supplies I need you to go get, so we can restock everything I had to throw out," she said rather plainly. If she was still angry, she was doing a good job of hiding it, or at least Trunks thought so. Before Trunks could respond in the affirmative, she continued. "There's a tablet sitting on the table in the lounge, it has everything you need to get and where to go pick it up."

Trunks nodded as she turned away from him, looking back at her work. He was about to walk away when he saw a long black rod sitting nearby on the floor, leaning against the workbench. He took two steps to clear the distance between him and the black rod, and asked as he picked it up, "Hey, is this a shock rod?"

"Yes," Armada replied, turning her gaze to him once more.

The handle looked different than the ones he had seen; it had a very pale yellow hexagon pattern around the it, far different than the black metal of the rest of the rod. As soon as Trunks wrapped his right hand around that handle, he felt a strange sensation. It was almost like the shock rod was very slowly pulling his energy out through his hand, where he held on to it.. Curious, he attempted to charge a small amount of energy in his hand, which he immediately felt swept out by the rod. The other end jolted with eletricity, enough that it crackled in the air and a tendril shot out and hit the ceiling of the cargo bay, leaving a black mark.

" _Kami!_ " Trunks almost jumped back at the burst of electricity; he didn't think he'd fed it that much energy.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Armada shouted at him as she stood and yanked the shock rod from his hands, giving him an angry glare.

"I'm sorry," Trunks almost stammered out, feeling rather embarrassed.

Armada stepped away from him and set the shock rod down on her workbench. She paused a moment, her shoulders slumping as she let out a deep sigh. She turned and looked at Trunks with an irritated gaze briefly before she spoke. "It's an augmented shock rod, not the standard you've seen. If someone like you or I is holding it, you can push your energy into it and directly power the electrical nodes at the end, which makes it a hell of a lot more dangerous in the right hands," she finished with an irritated glare.

"Where'd you get that?" Trunks asked; he was certain he would have seen it before now.

"I don't know," she answered, still glaring at him, "where'd you get the ID and the watch?"

Trunks's eyes widened slightly and he was stunned into silence. She knew about that? _No, of course she does_ , he thought. She had scoured the ship to clean everything after he got sick from that damn package, so she would have found it. He never bothered to check since he got back yesterday, so it didn't occur to him.

Before he had a chance to say anything, she fixed him with one last glare. "Get out," she said and stepped around him to seat herself at back at the high-tech version of a sewing machine and slid her goggles back down over her eyes. The machine hummed to life again, and she continued her work, ignoring him.

Trunks turned his gaze away, his eyes falling to the side. Now doubly embarrassed, he felt he had nothing else to say. She'd already given him her 'orders,' all he had to do was execute. So he left the cargo bay, grabbed the tablet, and shortly after that left the hangar. Might as well do something useful.

 

-+-

 

_I stand alone for all to see,_  
_'Cause they ain't never seen a war like me_

 

-+-

 

Illumination

Interlude: Downpour

 

-+-

 

By late afternoon, Trunks returned to the hangar and parked the car just inside the building's doors. Armada had quite a list of things to get, but luckily for him they all fit either within the car or the trunk. He brought everything into the ship, and they both sorted and stocked everything properly. With the infirmary's cabinets full to the threat of exploding, Trunks felt a significant sense of relief. So far, they needed that room more than he would have liked.

When that work was finished, Trunks ate a late lunch in the lounge and watched the local news. A huge thunderstorm was due to hit Ute tonight—no surprise since it was that time of year, or so the broadcast indicated. It was a splinter storm from a typhoon hitting on the eastern shores of the continent Ute was located on. Since returning, he mainly focused on the tasks at hand, but he kept an eye on Armada. She'd said nothing to him outside of simple commands or replies to questions on where to put things. She was quiet, but this was a different level of quiet from her. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he intended to find out.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, and when it was time for dinner, Armada cooked. It wasn't that strange for her to do so, but he'd done more of the cooking since his stay began than she did. Even stranger than that, she made tea for the two of them, and they sat together in the lounge and ate.

“You have to be careful,” Armada suddenly spoke and Trunks turned his gaze up to her mid-bite.

After taking a moment to swallow so his mouth wasn't full of food—he still remembered a slap from his mother across the face as a teenager, and the memory of that stung more than punches from the androids did—he finally responded. “What?”

She didn't look at him, but kept her gaze fixed on her food. “There's a lot of things about this world, about the universe, that you don't know. You can't just fumble through and expect to get out unharmed.”

Trunks stared at her for a moment and his face settled into a look of concern. What was this about? This was not the Armada he knew. She sounded like she was giving him a lecture... as if she wouldn't be able to give him this advice later on. “And what's prompting this conversation?” he asked, not having the patience to beat around the bush.

She turned and fixed him with a stare that he couldn't place. “Someone says they have a package for you that you are not expecting and you sign for it? You feel a device manipulating your energy so you release it? Do I need to continue?” she asked. Something was different, she didn't seem angry, or any variation of angry, which was what Trunks had pretty much been presented with from her since they met. He couldn't place it.

But her words pissed him off, so he focused on that. “And I'm supposed to take advice on how to care for myself from the woman who has said repeatedly that she doesn't give a shit about _anything_?” he asked tersely, his anger starting to show through. She was calling _him_ careless? She was the one showing up at all hours of the night bloody and beaten, requiring _his_ help to piece herself back together. And he didn't exactly forget that in her haste last night, she'd referred to him as her _merchandise_. He was in no mood to put up with more of her derision and insults.

Armada's face tightened, and Trunks thought she was going to say something, but instead she got up from her seat and walked into the galley, taking her plate with her. He watched her walk out but said nothing. So much for figuring out what she was up to. He dismissed the thought and focused on finishing his meal.

Shortly after he was done eating and had cleaned up the galley, Trunks felt very tired. Figuring he was still exhausted from recovering from... whatever that poison was, he couldn't remember, he went to his room to rest.

He failed to notice that during their meal, Armada never took a sip of her tea.

 

-+-

 

A young man that looked to be about Trunks's height and build, though maybe a little slimmer around the hips, stood under an awning and sighed. He flexed the muscles across his shoulders and rolled his neck, trying to loosen up a bit. He had arrived in Temelt-Ran yesterday, just as the city was going haywire over a typhoon warning. Everyone had been ordered to evacuate, including the hotel he was staying in and its staff. But Corvus wouldn't evacuate; he didn't need to. Besides, he had a job to do, and if Ryan knew he'd taken the first day off upon arrival to rest, he'd have been pissed.

Corvus ran a hand through his short white hair and cleared his throat. He stretched again and yawned. He almost couldn't believe how much his muscles ached from the long trip on that cramped shuttle. Why'd he have to take a public shuttle anyway? He was going to complain when he got back to base; he was important enough to get his own private shuttle at this point. Especially for trips halfway across the damn universe. Which brought another problem: Corvus was wide awake and it was just after midnight. Bmyhad's day and night were reversed from where he spent most of his time. He was in a deserted city, at night, in the middle of a serious storm.

Despite all that, Corvus still stood under the front awning of his hotel as the rain absolutely poured around him. Thunder chimed in, and he reached inside his blue suit jacket with his right hand for his cigarettes. Just then, his phone rang out, so he diverted his right hand to the outside right pocket of his jacket for his phone. When he looked at the number dialing his, he shook his head with a quiet “Finally,” added under his breath.

He flipped the phone open and immediately started talking. “Grelb, goddamnit, what took you so long to call? I thought they told you I was getting into town yesterday? Well, whatever, when are you gonna meet me here?”

There was a pause on the line for a moment before someone spoke. “Grelb's not coming,” a woman responded and the call was immediately terminated. Corvus spun around, and just as he turned he saw a woman step out of the shadows and throw an object at him. He reached out with his left hand and caught it easily.

Corvus turned the object over and realized it was a phone, just like his... except this one had dried blood smeared on the outside of it. Corvus looked up at the woman and glared; he knew exactly what was going on.

“Grelb wasn't much of anything besides a little shit, but I still expected him to keep a better eye out on everything going on over here,” Corvus said as he put away his comrade's phone into the same pocket as his own. “Then again,” Corvus continued, much calmer than before, “I shouldn't be surprised considering what you did that started this whole mess.”

Armada stood only a meter away from Corvus, wearing her armor with her hair tied back into a braid, except her bangs. She said nothing as she looked at the man sent to kill her; he was a hair taller than Trunks, although a little leaner. He had short white hair that was spiked up, and green eyes that almost glowed in the dark. She didn't know his name, but she knew he was one of Rieve's more powerful assassins sent to end her quarrel with the group.

Corvus went ahead and pulled out his cigarette case from the inside pocket of his jacket. He quickly took one cigarette out and stuck it between his lips as he put the case away. He looked to Armada briefly and asked, “Mind if I have a smoke? I was gonna have one while waiting for Grelb to pick me up, but obviously that isn't gonna happen.” Armada said nothing and didn't move, so Corvus shrugged and lifted his right hand to the tip of the cigarette. Using his ki, he created a small ball of energy to light his cigarette and then let it dissipate as soon as the end caught fire.

He took a long drag on his cigarette before addressing his target once more. “I'm Corvus, nice to meet you Armada,” he started. “I'm sure you know why I'm here, so we can skip that part,” he continued. “Besides,” he said, taking another deep breath, “we already got your money, so there's just one thing left to take.”

Armada waited patiently. She knew he was trying to drag this out, to try and catch her off guard. But she came prepared. This wasn't going to be easy; she knew that. Corvus was right, and she knew that too. Dax took her money, if Rieve still wanted something from her it was the only thing she had left that wounded their pride... she still lived.

Corvus took another long drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and smothering it with his left foot. “I gotta warn you, I'm not gonna go easy on you. Ryan wants you dead, but he wants your body as proof,” he finished. Which meant, and he was sure she knew, that he couldn't just vaporize her with his energy. He'd have to beat her to death, which while it would be fun for him to really exercise his abilities, wouldn't be fun for her.

Corvus smirked and made his move.

 

-+-

 

_“Murtole!” Trunks shouted as he ran over to his friend. He turned over Murtole's body, and the young man's eyes were wide open and lifeless, blood staining the front of his lab coat. “Murtole!!” Trunks screamed, knowing it was already too late. He looked up, and a few meters ahead of him, Devan's lifeless body dropped to the ground. “Devan, no!” Trunks shouted. He was paralyzed with fear; what was happening?!_

_It was then that out of the darkness Trunks could see her. Armada. “What are you doing?!” Trunks shrieked as he stood. He hadn't felt this kind of pain, this kind of loneliness and despair in years. Why? Why was she murdering his friends? What had they done to deserve this?_

_She turned to square up toward him, and fell into a fighting stance. Her energy then erupted around her, creating a bright green aura as her eyes glowed the same shade of green._

This isn't right... _Trunks thought as he stared at her. This wasn't her energy; it didn't match the Armada he knew. Not only that, but it was frighteningly powerful, more than he'd ever imagined she was capable of._

Trunks rolled over and opened his eyes. It was just a bad dream, but a strange one... he'd never dreamed of his comrade before. He sat up in his bed and ran his right hand through his hair, willing himself to calm down. He was no stranger to nightmares, but it'd been a few years since he'd had any. It was weird to experience all over again.

Just as Trunks let out a deep breath, his eyes shot wide in shock. He sensed the energy, the one from his dream... and it was exploding. It was climbing so fast, at this rate even he would have to worry. He stood in a hurry and started to get dressed, throwing his pants on followed by his shoes. Just as he finished pulling his shirt over his head and tucking it in, the energy stopped increasing. But where it settled was unbelievable. If his memory was accurate, the energy he sensed was greater than Cell just before he absorbed Android 18.

He paused for a moment to try and recall those memories, to validate his comparison, to try and be sure. Before he had a chance to really think about it, another energy exploded right next to this one, and this energy he knew all too well.

It was Armada's.

Trunks grabbed his jacket and sword and flew for the door of the ship. Armada was nowhere near that level of ability, she would be murdered in a matter of minutes. And if he was gauging the distance correctly, they felt like they were halfway around the Earth. He knew Bmyhad was a larger planet than Earth, but that distance... it would still take him a few minutes to get there.

Trunks pushed the button at the door of the ship to open it, when the reading next to the keypad flashed red with the words _Access Denied_. “What?!” Trunks questioned out loud. He tried punching in the few codes he knew to enter the ship and the building, but none worked. _Did she... did she..._ he couldn't finish his thought as he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He would have to deal with the aftermath later, but right now if he didn't get out of this ship she was going to die. He charged a ki blast in his left hand and fired, disintegrating the door.

 

-+-

 

Armada never saw Corvus's first attack.

He had slammed his right forearm across her face, sending her flying backward through the exterior corner of the hotel and sprawling out into the street in between chunks of concrete and metal debris. She did see him when he followed her, and she scrambled back to get some distance between them when he appeared behind her and struck her down once more. Even just above the ground as they were, he was able to hit her with enough force to crack the concrete beneath them as she was slammed into the ground. Corvus then tried to stomp on her body, only to push through the street and the concrete collapsed, falling into the tunnels below. Corvus smiled to himself as he chased after her; she had managed to fly out of the way at the last possible moment.

Armada flew down a few blocks before taking off straight up into the sky. The sky was filled with water, and the typhoon pounding Temelt-Ran was no joke. She was trying to clear the city's skyscrapers so she could get a better handle on Corvus's movements. As soon as she was about to clear the roof of the building she was flying next to, Corvus appeared before her and launched himself at her feet first. The mercenary twisted her body to avoid his kick and swung back with a left hook aimed for his face. It connected, and he flew backwards and away from her.

Corvus landed on the top of the skyscraper they were exchanging blows next to, and Armada followed suit, keeping her distance from him. The top of the building was already flooded with three inches of water. The rain was coming down too fast for it to drain off of the building properly. The Rieve assassin smiled broadly at Armada as his upper lip started to swell, a small line of blood trickling down into his mouth.

“I think you're better than the reports indicated,” he said, sounding jubilant. “But I think,” he paused to swallow thickly, “that we need to skip the foreplay and get down to business.” No sooner had the words rolled off of his mouth, he unleashed his energy. Armada narrowed her eyes and took a slight step back, betraying no emotion on her face. As his energy flickered around him in thick green waves, Armada clenched her teeth. He was much, much stronger than any opponent she had ever faced.

As his energy climbed, she clenched her fists. She wouldn't give up this easily. With a scream, she began to unleash her own energy. When she felt herself just barely reach that plateau of power, Corvus flew at her. Just as he had indicated, he showed no mercy. He threw a barrage of punches, most of which Armada was unable to block. She was forced backward, off of the roof of the building as she attempted to block his hits and put some room between them. Each time she backed up an inch, he moved into that space and made her pay for it. After just a few seconds and probably a few hundred hits, Corvus stopped punching long enough to reach back and kick Armada in the abdomen with his right foot.

When Corvus's foot hit her, Armada lost all the air in her lungs and her body was hurtled backward into a nearby building. She felt herself crash through several walls, though she was unsure of how many exactly. Corvus's speed and strength were dizzying. She could barely see his movements, and despite him releasing his energy, he still wasn't going after her as much as he could. And it was infuriating.

The mercenary forced herself to sit up through sheer will, as her body was already protesting in pain. Opening her eyes fully, she was able to see that Corvus had thrown her into what appeared to be an apartment building, as she now sat in the rubble of what once was someone's kitchen. Water spilled onto the floor from busted pipes, but it hardly mattered since with the torrential rain Armada was already soaked to the bone. As she struggled to get to her feet, Corvus appeared before her. She had no time to react when he reached down and picked her up by placing his right hand around her neck.

Corvus squeezed just enough to cut the airflow to Armada's lungs without breaking her windpipe. She instinctively reached up and grabbed his arm with both of her hands, her eyes narrowing as she struggled to breathe.

“You look relatively unharmed,” Corvus spoke calmly. Water trickled down the right side of his face; his hair was now flattened against his head from the rain outside. Thunder struck out and it sounded distant, as if they were safe inside from the storm. Armada squeezed Corvus's arm tighter, and he smirked. “Clearly we need to do something about that,” he said and threw her body into the air. He immediately pulled his left hand into his chest and stuck his elbow out above his head, then rammed it into Armada's abdomen as he pushed forward through the ceiling, driving her up.

She wasn't sure how far they had gone when they finally hit the roof of the building. As soon as she felt the cool rain pelting them again, she quickly charged a blast and fired at Corvus before flying backward away from him. Before the smoke cleared and before she even had time to take a breath, Corvus flew out from the debris and drilled Armada straight in the face with his right elbow.

Her vision went black from the force of the blow, but he was close enough she could sense his movements. He started throwing punches again, and Armada tried her best to block them. For each one she blocked, he landed three or four hits. He finally paused his attacks momentarily and reached forward to grab her forearms. Armada manged to pull away at the last second, and while he had her left arm in his grip, he missed grabbing her right arm.

Instead of countering with her free hand, she turned slightly and pulled back so she could reach his face with a hard right kick. Surprisingly she connected, and Corvus pushed back and away from her, releasing her in the process. Wasting no time, Armada turned and fled, trying to buy enough time for her vision to clear up. It wasn't enough, however, and Corvus appeared in front of her again.

He reached back and smacked Armada underneath her chin with his left forearm. She stumbled backward a bit, enough that he reached for her and spun her around, pulling her back to his chest with his right arm wrapped around her neck. She immediately tried to counter by elbowing him in the stomach with her left arm, but he caught her elbow with his left hand. “I don't think so,” Corvus laughed in her left ear. “But,” he continued, “you are a lot stronger than your old friend Dax. I'm surprised. I bet he would be too if he knew how thoroughly you could kick his ass now, given the chance,” the hit-man finished with a smirk.

Armada's vision started to return as he let her go and proceeded to drive his left knee into the small of her back before he used both feet and planted them into her back, forcing her to go flying once more. This time, before crashing into the concrete exterior of yet another skyscraper, Armada was able to right herself in the air and slow down enough to plant her feet against the side of the building. She barely had time to bring her hands together in front of herself but she fired the strongest energy blast she could considering she had no time to charge.

Corvus merely swatted her energy blast out of way as if it were an annoying fly that wouldn't leave him alone. He flew straight at her, and instead of trying to run away, she planted her feet and waited for him. When he reached her and swung with a right hook for her face, Armada countered at the last second and moved slightly to the side so she could grab his outstretched arm with both hands. Using his momentum against him, she swung him around into the building behind them, forcing him through the wall. She held onto him as they burst into an office of some sort and charged her energy into her hands while still holding him. Corvus was confused, but before he could react she let go of his arm and released her energy point blank in his face. He had no time to dodge or deflect, so he took the attack head-on.

As soon as she landed the hit, Armada flew backward out of the building they had crashed into, and put some significant distance between the hit-man and herself. She floated in the sky as it thundered, rain pouring down her face, washing away some of the blood running from her nose and mouth. She knew that attack wouldn't severely hurt Corvus, so she waited; she needed to see what kind of damage she had done.

That was when she saw the hit-man step to the edge of the hole in the side of the building, before he jumped up into the sky and flew slowly toward her. Armada could feel the distinct, sickening feeling of panic trying to well up within her. She willed it back down, but it was impossible to ignore completely. As Corvus flew over to her, he didn't have a mark on him. It was finally starting to sink in to Armada, that if she couldn't keep up with his speed, and he was more powerful, so much so that a decent attack like that didn't leave a scratch... she wasn't going to make it out of this alive.

“You're pretty smart too,” Corvus said as he slowly flew to her. Armada stayed where she was and kept her gaze fixed on him. Lightning struck nearby and lit up the sky like daylight for a few seconds. She heard Corvus start laughing through the thunder following the lightning. “Damn, I wish Ryan would have let me conscript you. I could have taught you so much,” he said, sounding almost wistful. He stopped approaching her when he was about three meters away. The pair hovered in the air, the rain still coming down in sheets as they stared at one another. Corvus simply shook his head before he launched another assault.

This time Armada couldn't even react; he was so fast she could barely register his movements. As he pummeled her with punches, she felt her mouth fill up with blood and her mind wandered. It was too late; it was over. Rieve won. But she could die easy. She had taken precautions before she came here to face Corvus; she made sure she wouldn't be followed. It wasn't _his_ fight, anyway. She figured that he may wait around for her for a while, but eventually he would realize she wasn't coming back and would just leave. That would be for the best. He had already been dragged too far into this, a personal quarrel with the mafia known as Rieve.

Corvus continued his assault, but changed tactics. Now he would slam into her, with a fist, a knee, anything, and knock her away, only to appear behind her and volley her body once more. With each hit she felt her life slipping away. As the beating continued, she wondered if the same thing would have happened if she didn't take that job. She wondered if things would have played out similarly if she took the job but didn't bother to complete it, if she simply ran. But more than anything, as her vision started to fill with blood running down her forehead and into her eyes, she thought about the person she left behind to come here. And she was confused as to why his image filled her mind's eye as everything started to go black.

Corvus kicked Armada away from him one last time and didn't give chase. Her body landed on the roof of a skyscraper shorter than the others surrounding them and skidded a few meters until she finally rested with her back against the slightly elevated lip around the edges of the roof of the building. He flew over after her, and landed a few steps away. He took his time walking up to her, and she struggled to keep both eyes open to look at him. She didn't look too terribly beat up, until Corvus noticed all the blood mixing with several inches of standing water on the roof from the rain. Her black armor hid her injuries well.

The mobster stepped up next to her and placed his right foot across her throat. He could crush her throat, she would die, and her body would still be intact per his boss's orders. He almost felt bad. She took quite a beating from him, and he was able to really flex his power in the process. He hadn't been able to do that in several years. He let out a deep breath, and started to put more pressure down on her.

Before Corvus could finish off his mark, he had the distinct feeling of being hit by a train. As if he were unknowingly standing in the tracks and it smashed into him from behind. Because the force and strength of whatever hit him from behind and sent him hurtling through the building next to the one he was standing on, and then through the building behind that, made him think of a train. It was the best comparison he could come up with.

After slamming into the guy that had his foot on Armada's neck, Trunks let out a breath. She was still alive so he wasn't too late. He took a knee beside her, as her back was leaning against the edge of the building and it propped her up somewhat like she was sitting. It didn't take him long to realize she wasn't conscious. The heavy rain was washing everything away, but she was still leaving a significant trail of blood in the water. It made Trunks's stomach turn as it brought up bad memories of finding his old mentor and friend Gohan, bloody in the rain in much the same condition she was in now.

Just to be sure, he checked her pulse at her neck and listened close to her face to make sure she was still breathing. Both signs were positive, though understandably weak. One thing that bothered him was that she didn't have any burns or cuts on her, as if the fight was purely physical in nature. He didn't get long to think about it as he sensed her attacker heading his way.

Corvus stopped a few meters back from where Armada's body still lay, and hovered in the air. A small amount of blood ran down from a minor cut in his forehead. “What's this?” Corvus asked, still trying to catch his breath. The man who knelt beside her slowly stood before Corvus continued. “She got herself a little knight in shining armor, did she?” The man with long hair simply glared at Corvus, saying nothing. “Do you have any idea who she is?” Corvus spat, certainly unhappy with this turn of events.

Trunks stood unmoving as the man who had attacked Armada started speaking to him. He had nothing to say. This guy was powerful, sure, but his level of power was something Trunks had surpassed many years ago, during his time in another world. This man held no threat to him, but he still had the nearly unbearable urge to rip him limb from limb.

“Get out of the way,” Corvus ground out angrily through clenched teeth. Lightning followed his pronouncement, as if the elements themselves were on his side in trying to intimidate Trunks. “Unless you want to be the next person to cross us and pay with your life.”

Now Trunks thought it was an opportune time to speak. He needed to affirm his suspicions before he killed this man. “Cross who, exactly?” he asked as thunder rolled in the distance.

Corvus smirked. “The most powerful mafia in the galaxy, of course,” he replied. Corvus felt himself coming back down to normal. No, it never helped him to fight angry. He needed to stay cool. “Rieve,” he added, to clarify for this simpleton who clearly knew nothing of who he was and what he was capable of. Corvus didn't care who this guy was; he was going to die, then he would kill the mercenary and take her back to headquarters with him. But the fun part was, in killing the man who had inserted himself into this fight, Corvus wasn't restricted in the same way as he was with the mercenary Armada. Nobody would ever miss the man with the ridiculous hair, so Corvus could incinerate him with prejudice.

Trunks knew the answer before Corvus had even said it. He was with Rieve. Now that he really looked at it, the dark blue suit the man wore resembled the one he remembered seeing Dax wearing when he first met Armada. Maybe they actually had some kind of uniform. Which would be pretty bold, since they would essentially be advertising who they were to the authorities. Perhaps it didn't matter, and they were powerful enough that even law enforcement didn't bother with them.

None of that truly mattered right now. Rage bubbled up within Trunks, and he forced it back down. He could fight angry, but he preferred not to. And while he didn't care for Armada even one ounce the same as he cared for Gohan, seeing her in the same position as his teacher set off a fire within him he didn't know he had. He supposed he finally understood a conversation he'd had with his mother some time ago about the word 'triggering.'

Corvus wasted no time in making the first move. In a flash he was upon Trunks, throwing punches mixed with kicks as he attempted to hit the mercenary. Trunks was slightly shocked at Corvus's speed. He was faster than Trunks anticipated due to his power, but it would never be enough. Trunks effortlessly blocked all of Corvus's attacks without starting any counterattack of his own. He needed a moment to gauge how Corvus would react. After a few seconds, Trunks thought he had a handle on how Corvus moved. He stopped blocking to lift his left hand and catch Corvus's right fist.

The hit-man's eyes widened momentarily before Trunks struck back with a hard fist to his face, right across the bridge of his nose. Corvus tried to flee, but was unable to pull away from Trunks's grip on his right hand. The mercenary followed up with a crushing elbow to Corvus's chest, directly into his sternum. Air escaped Corvus's lungs in a rush, and Trunks let got of his fist. Before Corvus could flee, Trunks swung up with his right forearm, smacking Corvus under the chin and sending his head flying back. The demi-Saiyan finished with a powerful kick to Corvus's center which sent him hurtling through the air once more.

As soon as Corvus broke through steel and concrete once more from this mysterious defender, he righted himself in the air and landed on his feet on an office floor. He wiped the blood and water from his face as his vision cleared up. Whoever this guy was, he was _far_ stronger than the mercenary he came for. All information they had on her indicated she worked alone, and had done so for years. So who the hell was this guy? Realizing it didn't matter and he already knew what he had to do, Corvus steeled himself. He wouldn't let some nobody upstage him, especially not on a mission this important to his leader and friend.

Trunks waited patiently as he floated in the air, the rain having long soaked through every stitch of clothing he was wearing. His hair was stuck to his face, but he kept his eyes on the building he'd knocked Corvus into. He could sense the mobster and knew he was still alive, and he also knew that his hits wouldn't have incapacitated him that easily. So he waited, figuring his opponent was coming up with something to counterattack with. There was no need to chase him into a confined space, considering Trunks had the upper hand.

Suddenly Trunks felt Corvus's energy spike, and a bright green wave of ki shot out of the building, disintegrating a much larger area of the structure than the hole Corvus had created when he crashed into it. It wasn't a blast Trunks could block, so he dodged to the side, only to meet with Corvus's knee in his chest. He couldn't avoid the hit, but was able to move backward and regain his bearings before Corvus continued his assault. This time, his hits were faster and harder, and Trunks was mildly surprised. He thought the mobster had already unleashed the entirety of his power, but it appeared he had not. Regardless, it still wouldn't be enough to best him.

Trunks decided he'd had enough of defense, so he started parrying Corvus's hits and filling the gaps with his own attacks. The mercenary used his energy to boost his speed, and Corvus could do nothing in response but take hit after hit. Much like the punishment he had doled out only minutes earlier to the mercenary he was after, Corvus was now on the receiving end. His mouth filled with blood and it ran from his nose, washed away by the rain. Knowing that he had to do something, Corvus patiently waited for an opening. And when Trunks stopped hitting him to charge an energy blast in his right hand, Corvus had found it.

Immediately he countered with his own blast, point blank. Trunks fired his in return to volley some of the energy away. He was surprised; he didn't sense Corvus charging a blast and the amount of energy he fired was troubling. Corvus kept pushing everything he had into it, and screamed as the beam doubled in size and intensity. When he couldn't fire anymore, Corvus flew back several dozen meters to get some distance between them.

Trunks emerged from the light of Corvus's attack completely unscathed and equally unfazed. While the hit-man's abilities had been surprising to Trunks, the gap in their power was so great it was impossible for Corvus to overcome it. The mafioso swallowed thickly; now he understood just how the tables had turned. He wouldn't be able to beat this guy head-on. No, but that didn't mean he would turn and run. He had a mission to complete. His pride was on the line.

An idea struck him, and Corvus disappeared. Trunks blinked in confusion for a moment before he sensed his enemy again, and the direction he was headed. Trunks's eyes widened in shock for a split second before he turned and flew after the Rieve assassin.

Corvus appeared above Armada and immediately fired an energy blast, hovering only five meters from her body. Trunks couldn't make it in time to deflect the blast, so he did the only thing he could—he fired a counter blast of his own to try and spare her body from being hit. The roof of the building exploded as their energies mixed, and Trunks lost track of Armada. He heard another crash, and turned to see yet another wound in another skyscraper. He immediately flew to the area, barely sensing her energy inside the building.

Just as Trunks appeared in front of Armada's unconscious body, Corvus did the same. This time the mobster had a sphere of white energy around his right fist. Trunks prepared to counter his attack only to have Corvus let loose the energy in front of his face. However, it wasn't the attack Trunks suspected. The energy dispersed as an intense light, so intense it blinded him. Corvus then went on the offensive, and Trunks found that the previous attack not only blinded him, but dulled his senses as well. He had trouble sensing Corvus's movements, and as a result took a smattering of blows as Corvus slowly pushed him backward. Each blow that Trunks tried to block or parry, he slightly missed, or connected but not enough to have an effect.

Trunks knew they were outside again when he felt the rain hit his face. That same rain now made things even more difficult. Disoriented as he was, raindrops only added to the confusion of trying to pick out his opponent's movements, something Corvus was probably counting on. Finally, with a blow that Trunks couldn't even discern what exactly it was, Corvus was able to send the mercenary flying. When Trunks felt himself hit a wall, he stopped himself from going through it, but before he could think he sensed energy headed his way. He flew up and into the sky, dodging smaller but still very powerful blasts.

As his enemy flew away, Corvus wasted no time getting to the task at hand. He wouldn't be able to escape with Armada, which meant the only thing he could do was kill her and flee. He hesitated for a moment; if he incinerated her there certainly wouldn't be any proof. If he couldn't take her body back with him though, he needed to make sure her death would be discovered. He reached down and grabbed the back of her head, his fist tangling into her hair at the base of her skull where her braid began. With a solid grip on her, he flew outside into the storm.

Once outside, Corvus looked down to the flooded streets below. With as much force as he could muster, he threw her body straight toward the asphalt below. She would hit with enough force to kill her, but to be sure he flew after her, planning to crush her bones and internal organs moments after impact by slamming into her. The force of both blows would be enough to finish it, and the corpse would be found by the locals once they returned to the city after the storm passed. Even if it wasn't on the local news, law enforcement would investigate and take pictures. Pictures which could be stolen via network hacking to substantiate Corvus's retelling of the events when he returned to base. It wasn't a perfect plan, but in the current circumstances it would do.

Trunks dodged the last of Corvus's energy blasts and fired one of his own, destroying it in the process. His vision and senses had started to return, when he looked down to see Corvus throw Armada toward the ground below. She was too far from him and moving too fast; the mobster took off after her and Trunks internally grimaced. He didn't want to use it, but he had no choice. He couldn't clear that distance in time without the use of that form.

Corvus was right behind the mercenary he was set to execute, and just as he expected her to impact mere moments before he did, she disappeared. He did however hit the ground with his feet, breaking through the street as chunks of concrete and steel fell into the subway system below. Before he could even turn his eyes up to see what happened, Corvus felt pain in his chest, just to the right of his sternum, almost exactly opposite to where his heart would be.

When he looked up he found himself staring into teal eyes and gold hair. Corvus's eyes widened in shock; just what the hell _was_ this guy?

Trunks twisted his sword in Corvus's chest, making sure it was embedded into the concrete of the building behind them. The mobster flinched at the pain, realizing he was pinned. He looked down at the sword that had been rammed through his chest, and the blood that poured down his clothes from the wound. It didn't look as bad as it was, with the heavy rain washing a lot of the blood away. But he knew it was over. This new strength his enemy showed off was simply terrifying. If there was a gap in their power before, it had since increased a hundred times over. And Corvus knew he had no chance of stopping this man now.

Corvus's eyes wandered back up to those of his enemy. “See you in hell,” he said with a laugh. How strange it was, to come here on a mission that would be easy, only to run into a true demon in terms of strength and meet his own demise. He hoped Ryan wouldn't be too angry.

Trunks yanked his sword from the hit man’s body, a stream of blood following it. With his free hand, he reached up and fired a ki blast, powerful to incinerate Corvus. After a few seconds, Trunks stopped firing and verified that Corvus was gone. His energy had completely disappeared. Pieces of debris fell from the crumbling area of the building Trunks had vaporized with Corvus.

The Super Saiyan stood in the rain for a few moments, letting out deep breaths as the rain poured down. The water washed most of the blood from his sword, and after a brief respite, he quickly sheathed his sword on his back once more. He turned and walked slowly over to his unconscious comrade. He had no time to set her down properly, only enough to stop her from crashing into the ground with the full force of Corvus's throw. As a result, all he could do was catch her to absorb the impact and immediately drop her a few meters away from where she was going to crash.

He bent down to pick her up, her head barely above the water rushing by. She wasn't dead, but she was closer to it than anyone ever wanted to be. Not wanting to waste any more time, once he had her secured in his grip, his left around around her back and his right arm hooked under her knees, he took off. He flew while keeping his transformation, because it would make the trip back much shorter than it had been on the way there.

 

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All that Armada could think about was a terrifying, absolutely crushing aura she felt briefly. When Corvus had his foot on her throat and choked off her air, she figured she was done for. The next thing she remembered she sensed two energies dueling not far from her. She couldn't move, couldn't even open her eyes. That was when Corvus grabbed her by her hair and launched her. All she remembered after that was an aura, a power so intense it was impossible to breathe. Never in her life had she felt something so incredible, so literally awesome that even if she had been able to, she wouldn't have found voice within her lungs. She felt the heat of a blast, nearby, again from that same aura, so intense it was unbearable.

These thoughts played over and over in her head, as if she was stuck inside a dark void with nothing else to occupy her time. And no matter how she tried to rationalize it to herself, despite the different feeling that energy gave off, she knew who it belonged to. It still didn't make any sense to her, beyond giving her nightmares of Trunks choking the life from her with his incredible strength. A strength so vast she wondered why hadn't conquered half the known universe. There would be nothing stopping him.

Suddenly, her neck in his grip once more as he stared her down in her dreams, Armada felt the overwhelming urge to cough. And when she did cough, her eyes opened as her chest shook from the action. The first cough was followed by five more, before she managed to grab whatever was lying under her left hand and grasp it as tightly as she could. She willed her right hand to move, and it obeyed. Pushing her right hand back for support, and wanting to verify that the ceiling she stared at was the ceiling she thought it was, Armada forced herself to sit up.

She didn't expect to make it all the way up the first time she tried, but she did. She coughed a few more times and leaned forward, slowly rousing her legs to move as well. She noticed that she was stripped down to her underwear, still wearing her bandages over her abdomen from the nasty slice she had running down her side, sitting beneath a white sheet. A white sheet for a bed in the infirmary of her ship, where she was.

Before she could totally grasp the world around her, she sensed _his_ energy. It had now become a suffocating force for her, she couldn't _not_ sense it; it would hang over her like a dark cloud of smoke, ready to choke the life out of her at the earliest opportunity. Still, she turned to her left to see him sitting in the same chair she had collapsed into only days prior, drinking to dull the pain of stitching herself up with electrical wire. His light blue eyes stared directly at her, and she didn't need to read the anger in his face. It was present in the room; his energy buzzed with fury, so much so that it made her head feel dull.

She expected him to say something, but Trunks stayed silent and only stared. Armada felt weak and dizzy; her head fell forward and she caught it with her right hand, her eyes diverting from his as she struggled to keep a grasp on reality.

“Why?” Trunks finally spoke, and Armada was surprised at his tone. He didn't sound angry at all. He sounded... hurt. Had she misread his energy?

She took a breath and lifted her head, turning to face him so she could meet his gaze with hers. “It wasn't your fight,” she said lowly, her voice weak.

He knew she would say that. After all, she had given him that tea that made his senses dull so he wouldn't wake up upon immediately sensing her flying away. She had changed the passcode for the door to the ship, trying to lock him in. Clearly, she didn't want him interfering. But why? So she could go off and die? Trunks was wondering if he would ever understand her. Or worse, if she was even sane.

On the other hand, she didn't want him involved, which could indicate that she cared for his well being. He still had significant doubts that such a thing was possible, but it would explain why she chose the path she did. If she merely didn't want him to interfere, all she had to do was ask. Part of him wondered if she knew she was going off to her death to face the mobster. Otherwise, why the secrecy? Then again, very little of what she did made sense to him. Perhaps he was over-thinking this and she was merely insane. That hypothesis had a lot going for it as things stood.

“You're not alone,” Trunks spoke again, trying to reason with her. “You don't have to do things by yourself.” _You don't have to die for no reason,_ he thought, choosing not to voice those particular words.

Armada turned her back to him; she didn't want to look at his eyes anymore. The same eyes she saw when she closed her eyes and he killed her in her dreams. After a few long seconds of silence, she finally spoke. “Get out,” she said quietly and without the same angered tone she typically used.

Trunks knew she wouldn't suddenly open up and be reasonable, yet he still felt a tinge of disappointment. He did as asked, and left the infirmary. On his way back to his room, he grabbed a bottle of water to get a drink before he settled in to get some rest. He hadn't slept more than about four hours total over the last three days, after he had treated Armada and sat in that same chair, waiting for her to wake up. While he felt stupid for wasting his time worrying about her, he knew that given the same scenario again, he would have done exactly the same thing. Perhaps then he was the one losing his grip on sanity, not her.

 

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Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you have time. :]

Today's lyrical content provided by:  "Son of Sam," Shinedown


	10. Mission 06: [Classified]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Armada are forced into taking a job that doesn't seem so bad, until a super weapon is used against them.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

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It took a few agonizing seconds for Trunks to breathe. He almost thought time itself had stopped, with the way his body went numb and his lungs froze. Once he was able to breathe, he could focus his senses for a moment. As the pain started to roll in, lighting up his nerves throughout his entire body, he could begin trying to move. His vision was still completely black, but he was able to start moving his fingers. His left hand grabbed whatever it could, and his fingers wrapped around a few pieces of concrete rubble.

 

Suddenly his ability to sense ki came back to him, and he could track what was going on. It only took a few seconds for him to realize that Armada was moving away from him. For a moment he was curious, but as she darted farther away he quickly realized what she was doing. _No..._ he thought in anguish as the reality of the situation sank in. She was leading _him_ away, and Trunks knew what that meant. Armada wasn't strong enough to defeat him. But she was protecting him yet again, pulling the danger away even if they both knew what that meant.

 

If Trunks didn't get up in the next thirty seconds, she was going to die. And he would likely follow after her.

 

 

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Illumination

 

Mission 06: [Classified]

 

 

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[Approximately three days ago]

 

Armada gazed at the window to her left, and her eyes narrowed while her mind focused on other matters. She leaned back in her seat, watching as the private shuttle she was on docked with the space station in preparation for her to disembark. Her trip to LOKI and back had taken four days. Once she disembarked at this space station, there was only one more shuttle left to take to descend down to the surface of Bmyhad, and she would be back to the ship in a few hours. That was a problem, since she had not quite resolved the issues that had been bothering her through this entire trip.

 

There was no question in her mind that Trunks was far more powerful than her. She had suspected it for some time, but now knowing without any doubts, having felt that terrifying force herself, she couldn't ignore the issue. This one fact brought many problems to mind, the most pressing of which was the question of why. Why would he stay? He had the power to crush her in an instant. Why would he even go with her in the first place? Back when she had tracked him down to the lab in Ute, he could have ended things there. What was he planning? There had to be some reason for this. Maybe he was working with Dax. Although if he was allied with Dax, and by proxy Rieve, wouldn't he be assisting Rieve? How would he have fallen victim to Rieve's attack so easily? Why would he have _saved_ her from being killed by Corvus, and kill him in return? And if he was working with Dax and Rieve, why was he so naive about the universe as a whole? He was one hell of an actor.

 

The muscles in her jaw tightened. He was after her, he was after something she had, although she wasn't sure what. She didn't know why. And it was disconcerting to say the least. Dax had already taken her money, which was truly a pittance to Rieve. What else did she have? If he was sent to kill her, he could have done so a hundred times over. So why wait? Armada couldn't answer these questions, and for the first time in eight years, she was mystified as to what to do.

 

“Miss Solaris?”

 

Armada looked up to her right to see the single flight attendant on this shuttle standing in the aisle, looking to her. “We'll begin disembarking shortly,” the elderly man said once she made eye contact with him. Armada nodded and he smiled at her before turning away to head back to the main cabin. She had chartered this private shuttle for just herself, but the company had included a flight attendant anyway. Not necessary in her mind, but she made no point to argue it.

 

She turned and looked out the window to her left once more. It wouldn't be long now before she returned to Ute.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Not even one full day after waking up from what Trunks supposed was a coma, Armada left. _I'm going to LOKI, I'll be back in four days._ That was all she said before she put on her armor and took off. He didn't say anything in response, didn't argue with her. Because what was the point? The only conclusion Trunks could come to was that she was insane. Why else would she be so damn determined to die for no decent reason?

 

He was confused, to put it mildly. Some of her actions made it seem like she was trying to protect him, to keep him from being involved. And others made it appear that she had a death wish. But why go to such extremes? Perhaps she thought she could have defeated that assassin from Rieve before she fought him and found out that she couldn't. But if she had any doubts, why keep him from going with her, from assisting her? While the thoughts still continued to plague him, Trunks tried to push them to the back of his mind. These were questions with no answers, and all they served to do was fill him with doubt.

 

As Trunks sat and ate his lunch in the lounge, watching some show on the network that reminded him of old martial arts movies he'd seen back on Earth, he heard a noise in the hangar. After hearing the noise and taking a moment to set down his utensils, he sensed Armada's ki. Curious as to what the noise was about, he got up and headed for the open door to the ship.

 

When Trunks reached the hole in the side of the ship that he had created by destroying the ship's door, he looked down below to see Armada carrying a large crate inside the hangar through the larger side door they used for the car. As Armada flew carrying a crate larger than their car, she finally noticed Trunks and looked up at him. She set the crate down, and proceeded to throw a small object at him.

 

Trunks had to lean out the open door slightly to catch the small black box she had thrown at him. “Hold on to that,” she called up at him. “Don't lose it; it cost me half a million.”

 

 _Half a million beta?_ Trunks thought as he looked at the small plastic black box in his hand. It was a cube only about an inch and a half on each side. It reminded him of the old jewelry boxes his mother had at home. The idea that Armada had purchased _jewelry_ was almost as crazy as... well... as crazy as _her_. Perhaps that meant it wasn't such a crazy idea to think she wasted half a million beta on jewelry.

 

Trunks looked back down below to see Armada pulling the lid off of the metal crate she had carried inside. Curious as to what she was doing, he flew down to where she worked to get a closer look. He landed on the other side of the crate as she finished pushing the lid to the side where it rested upright against the longer side of the crate.

 

“What's that?” Trunks asked as he placed the small box she had given him in his right pants pocket.

 

“I have to replace the door to the ship,” Armada said without looking at him as she continued to work. With the lid of the crate out of the way, she pulled some packing material aside to reveal a shiny metal door. It looked slightly different than the one Trunks had destroyed. Armada reached down and carefully lifted the door from the packing material around it. She hovered in the air slightly and set the door down, upright, leaning against the short side of the crate.

 

“What about the box?” Trunks asked, referring to the small black box she had handed over to him.

 

Armada moved around to the side of the crate and removed more packing material to reveal a metal box in the bottom of the crate. “It's a new ship identification scrambler,” she said while lifting the box out of the crate. She set it on the edge of the crate and unlatched it before opening it. “Noran and Senator Ballasten scanned our ship. The specific algorithm for that chip has been compromised, so it needs replaced,” she answered. She picked up several small pieces of metal out of the box that Trunks figured were the accessories for the door needed to install it.

 

With her hands full of small pieces, she turned to Trunks briefly before lifting the new door once more. “I'll install the door and then I'll install the chip, so hang on to it for a few minutes.” With the door in her hands, she flew up to the side of the ship and set the door just inside the opening from the old door. Trunks flew up after her.

 

They worked together for thirty minutes to install the new door. Since he blew apart the old one, Armada had to open several of panels of the hull of the ship to remove all of the components of the old door. For a sliding door, the whole thing seemed a lot more complicated and involved. Then again, it had to seal the ship for flight into space. With a coordinated effort, they finished installing the door in half an hour and moved on to the bridge.

 

Armada knelt beneath the pilot's console in the bridge and opened a metal panel to expose the wiring beneath. Trunks knelt next to her, holding a small flashlight in his hand, positioned to help her see into the dark interior of the ship's components. Installing the new chip went quickly, all that she had to do was remove the old chip, put the new one in the same socket, and restart the ship's identification operating system. Once it was in, Armada sat in the pilot's seat while Trunks sat at the navigation console to her right. She wanted to check the ship's systems and run a quick diagnostic to make sure both the door and the new ID scrambler were functioning properly.

 

After rebooting several systems, Armada sat watching the diagnostic messages scroll down the main monitor in front of the pilot's chair in the bridge. Suddenly a new dialog window appeared and displayed the words _Incoming Transmisson. Decrypting signal..._

 

Armada watch the monitor for a second before her eyebrows came together in worry. “No,” she said lowly as she started typing furiously at the console.

 

“What's up?” Trunks asked. Based on her tone in just that one word, it didn't sound good.

 

“These encryption keys are specific to the Republican government,” Armada said, glancing between her keyboard and the monitor in front of her. “I can't stop the transmission, they've overridden the system!” she exclaimed, a mixture of worry and fury playing out in her words.

 

“The Republican government is trying to contact us?” Trunks surmised. This didn't sound good to him.

 

“And I don't want any part of it,” Armada said lowly as she continued to try and stop the transmission. It was too late however, when an image finally appeared on the screen.

 

“ _Good evening Armada,”_ a woman on the other side of the transmission spoke. She had brown hair that was tied back and away from her face, and dark brown eyes. She was wearing some kind of suit, although she had no wore no badge or symbol to indicate exactly who she was. _“I hope you're doing well.”_

 

Armada glared at the woman on the other side of the screen. “I don't want anything to do with you.”

 

The woman on the other end laughed and her eyes fell for a moment before she raised them again, a smile still on her face. _“I think we both know that you don't have a choice at this point.”_ She paused a moment and typed something at her own console. As she did, a smaller window appeared superimposed on the current communications window. This one was a quarter of the size and sat down in the bottom-left corner.

 

“ _Ten days ago, a top secret prototype of a weapon being developed by the Venetian government was stolen,”_ the mysterious woman continued speaking. At her words, a blueprint of what Trunks thought did indeed look like some kind of weapon appeared on the smaller screen. If he had to guess, it had the general shape and size of a rocket launcher. _“And you're going to get it back,”_ she added with a smile.

 

Armada continued glaring, but finally relented to participate in the conversation. “Who stole it?”

 

The woman smiled broadly, though it seemed strained. _“We have our theories as to who hired him, but it was a mercenary by the name of Mikhail,”_ she said, and the image on the smaller screen changed to an image of a man that didn't appear to be much older than Trunks. _“We've tracked him to an abandoned district of Virda City. He doesn't appear to be moving. The signal has stayed put for the past two days.”_

 

“You're tracking him through the weapon,” Armada said. Trunks supposed it should have been a question, but she didn't say it like it was one.

 

“ _Yes,”_ the woman replied. _“I've uploaded a copy of the signal the device emits so that you can calibrate your equipment to track it.”_ She paused a moment before she spoke again. _“You must bring the weapon back. There will be no compensation if we do not receive the prototype.”_

 

“How much are we talking about?” Armada asked.

 

“ _Eight hundred fifty-thousand beta,”_ the woman responded plainly. _“We expect to hear from you within a week,”_ the woman added. _“Good luck.”_ With that, the transmission cut off.

 

Armada sighed, and Trunks was surprised. He would have expected her to start screaming or punch something, not _sigh_. Was she feeling sick? “So what do we do?” Trunks asked, unsure if this meant they were taking the job or not.

 

“She was from the Venetian government,” Armada said plainly without looking at Trunks. “If we refuse, we'll have them as an enemy.” She paused a moment before turning to her right, her eyes catching Trunks's. “Venice is one of the founding nations of the Republic. It's also one of the most powerful countries in existence,” she added. “We can't refuse.”

 

“So we just need to go get this weapon back from a mercenary,” Trunks replied, summarizing the situation. “Shouldn't be too hard, right?” One mercenary versus the two of them sounded like a walk in the park.

 

Armada opened the file the Venetian woman sent them. The mugshot of Mikhail appeared on the monitor in front of her. “It can't be that easy,” Armada replied, staring at Mikhail's picture and the accompanying profile. “There's a reason they're not going after him.” She paused a moment as she read the data in front of her. “Looks like he's an energy fighter, but the best estimates of his strength have him so low he should pose no threat to either of us, _or_ a proper Venetian strike team.” Her eyes narrowed and her mouth screwed up a little bit before she sighed yet again. “There's something about this that they're not telling us.”

 

Trunks thought for a moment before he spoke. “Why don't we just tell them we failed and never bother with it?”

 

Armada shook her head and kept her gaze on the data onscreen. “They must already have surveillance setup on him, even if it's only via satellite. They'll know if we don't even bother,” she said, almost dejectedly.

 

“So what's this weapon?” Trunks asked. Perhaps that held the answer to the question of why Venice wanted them to go retrieve it.

 

Armada pulled up the weapon specs and read the file. “It doesn't say anything about what it does, just gives physical specifications so we can identify the weapon,” she answered. “And a name,” Armada added after a moment, “Project Nadol'tonne.”

 

“Look up that word,” Trunks interjected. A conversation floated up from his memory where he and his mother talked about project name conventions and the name of the Capsule Corporation project that produced the time machine. Maybe it wouldn't hold water for an alien empire, but if it did, perhaps the project name might reveal something about the nature of what this weapon was. He waited a few moments as Armada typed away at the console in front of her, when finally she paused on a screen and he watched as her eyes narrowed in concentration. “What is it?” he asked, knowing immediately that she'd found something.

 

“Nadol'tonne is an ancient Venetian god of the earth,” she said slowly as she stared at the screen. “He was said to carry a giant hammer that he used to create earthquakes when he slammed it into the ground,” she finished and looked to Trunks.

 

“You think this weapon can generate earthquakes?” Trunks asked as his eyebrows rode a little higher. Certainly such a thing wasn't possible. The energy released from an earthquake was massive, there was no way it could be contained in a weapon small enough to be carried by a single person.

 

“No,” Armada shook her head slightly, “it's not possible.” She glanced back at the image of the weapon on the monitor, “But whatever it does, we've got to be careful.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

The trip to Virda took three days, and Trunks loathed every minute of it. Floating through space, unable to do anything but wait... it was frustrating. After they took off from Ute, Armada had disabled the ship's communication system. She had explained to Trunks that since the Venetian government had hacked it, the system was compromised. While it was run by a separate operating system and the infrastructure was isolated, they still ran the risk of a potential hack into the ship's other systems. After she had shut it down, she removed the components of the system. She said they'd replace them later, after they returned from this mission.

 

Her reticence for this mission was understandable, but still strange. He agreed that things didn't quite add up, but between the two of them, what did they truly have to fear? This wouldn't be a repeat of her fight against that white-haired Rieve assassin. She had been alone for that, until he caught up to her. This time they would be working together from the start. And Trunks understood that he was ridiculously powerful compared to most beings in the universe, and this was confirmed by the way she tiptoed around him after that debacle. It bothered him slightly, but perhaps she wouldn't be so quick to fight with him now that she knew he was far more powerful than she was.

 

When they approached the planet and began their descent, Armada explained that almost a hundred years ago, Virda was involved in a war with a member nation of LOKI. Virda City had fallen victim to a nuclear attack, and as a result a massive part of the city was destroyed. Those ruined remains were still cordoned off from the rest of the city due to radiation poisoning. It wouldn't harm them to enter the district to apprehend Mikhail, but if they were to live there, that would be a problem. Thus the government of Virda did not allow anyone to resettle the area. However, the derelict district was massive, and the health risks posed to those who would be forced to patrol it regularly to enforce the quarantine meant that it was mostly unsecured. Which made it an ideal place for criminals to temporarily hide.

 

Armada landed the ship within the living side of the metropolis, under an assumed name, and paid off the local hangar to keep things quiet. They headed for the quarantine zone on foot, and when they reached the border wall it was all too easy to sneak by local police and enter the district under the cover of night. Once inside, Trunks inwardly grimaced. This Virda City looked nothing like the high tech, clean and orderly metropolis they just left behind. No, it resembled the ruined West City during the height of the androids' reign. In some ways, it was worse, because he couldn't sense anything—not one living being in the area, and that emptiness stretched for _miles_. He wondered if this was what Earth would look like if he had failed and been killed by the androids. It made his stomach turn.

 

They walked through the ruined section of the city, following the signal emitted by the stolen weapon. Armada had programmed her phone to track it, and they were closing in. She stopped walking as they approached a skyscraper that was mostly still standing. She turned to look at Trunks, who followed behind her and off to her left a step or two. “The weapon's in the building,” Armada said, motioning toward the derelict construct with her head. “Mikhail is likely with it. Keep your energy suppressed,” she said lowly before walking toward the building while sliding her phone into place on her belt.

 

Trunks stepped lightly as he followed behind her. The streets were covered in a thin layer of what appeared to be ash, which helped muffle the sound of their footsteps. He didn't sense anything for miles, save his comrade, and it was unnerving. Even the abandoned cities of Earth held some life, from small animals that would seek shelter in the rubble. This place was like a dead zone, with no signs of life, no plants, no animals... nothing. If Mikhail was in that building with the weapon, he was completely hidden from Trunks's senses. Which while he wasn't sure how such a feat would be possible, he knew it couldn't be _im_ possible. The universe was full of strange technology that both enabled and disabled ki. Who knew what else this mercenary had besides the Venetian military weapon?

 

The front doors to the building had long been gone. When Armada approached the threshold, she lifted her feet and floated into the air. Trunks did the same, and the pair both worked to keep their energies as low as possible. Trunks knew that Frieza's men were not trained to sense their enemies, as they relied on scouters to read ki levels. He couldn't assume that was the case for Mikhail, however it hardly mattered. He and Armada would be the only life forms around for miles. Surely the mercenary knew they were coming.

 

The path ahead was blocked with a lot of rubble, but the broken concrete didn't obstruct the hallway completely. A small gap was present at the left end of the hallway near the ceiling, however they would have to go through one at time. Armada flew through first, without a second thought. Trunks followed after her, although it was a tighter fit for him with his wide shoulders, and he bumped a few pieces of broken concrete loose. The small sounds generated by the falling debris seemed incredibly loud to Trunks as the noise echoed through the building. He was surprised at first, until he quickly realized that this area was silent—silent like death, which is exactly what this abandoned district represented. Death.

 

On the other side of the blocked hallway, Trunks found they were in what appeared to be a lobby for the building. He looked up and saw that the center of the building was cut away for several stories, and he could see far up into the building. Moonlight poured in through the windows, so while the building was dark it wasn't without any light. While taking in the surroundings, Trunks's head snapped back down when he sensed movement.

 

Armada must have sensed it too, because she tensed and drew her arms back, preparing for a fight. However, when Mikhail appeared, he struck at her quickly, so fast Trunks almost didn't see it. Armada couldn't block his attack, and took the brunt of a kick that pushed her to her left and into a concrete wall that crumbled under the force of her striking it.

 

It seemed like time stopped for a moment, as Trunks stared into Mikhail's golden eyes. The short dark brown hair, the stubble, and those golden eyes—they matched the portrait they were given all right. There was no doubt that they had found their target. Trunks prepared to move in for an attack, and Mikhail disappeared as quickly as he came. Only a flash of a moment after he disappeared did Trunks realize that he couldn't sense Mikhail. The demi-Saiyan didn't panic though; not sensing his opponent didn't mean he wasn't capable of beating him. Trunks's main adversaries for well over a decade were beings that emitted no sense of life energy. A sudden thought hit him; was Mikhail an android?

 

Mikhail took off, and Trunks followed. He was fast, but not fast enough to lose Trunks. Mikhail flew up, several stories up into the building. When he slowed momentarily, Trunks took the opportunity to attack. The mercenary thief was skilled, and was able to block a considerable amount of Trunks's attacks, while dodging others. Trunks wasn't worried though; he was testing Mikhail's abilities. So far, he found that his target was fairly skilled, and likely far more powerful than Armada. Compared to Trunks though, Mikhail had yet to present a serious threat. But things were just getting started.

 

The thief backed away from Trunks slightly, and the mercenary moved into the space he left behind, preparing to make Mikhail pay for it. Trunks lunged forward with a well-placed palm strike aimed at Mikhail's face, when the thief completely disappeared. Trunks's inertia kept him moving forward, and he blinked in shock. Mikhail had not moved, he had _disappeared_. Something strange was going on, and it worried Trunks slightly. He turned and looked down toward the direction of Armada's energy.

 

No sooner had he turned, her body flew backwards and up toward him, passing him without colliding by inches. She was bleeding from her nose as she flew past—no, she was _thrown_ past him. Her body slammed into a concrete wall a few stories above, and rubble fell down into the open center of the building. She quickly pushed herself out of the rubble and glanced down to Trunks. “Keep him busy!” Armada shouted to him, and he turned just in time to see Mikhail appear before him again.

 

Determined to not let him get away without figuring out just what that disappearing technique was, Trunks surged forward with more speed and force than last time. This time, he landed several punches to Mikhail's face and chest, though he took the hits well. Just as Mikhail tried the same maneuver as he did moments ago, Trunks lunged forward and grabbed Mikhail's dingy white shirt with his right hand. The thief's golden eyes widened slightly, and Trunks reached back with his left hand, preparing to plant a fist into the mercenary's face.

 

Before he could let his attack loose, Armada appeared behind Mikhail, her left arm wrapping around his neck as she reached toward his chest with her right. Trunks didn't notice until now, that Mikhail was wearing some kind of metal pendant. Armada reached for it, and once it was within her grasp she ripped the pendant and its chain from Mikhail's neck. She released her hold on his neck with her other hand, pushed back a meter or so and crushed the metal piece in her right fist into pieces.

 

As soon as the device was destroyed, Trunks felt a strange energy surge through the area from Armada's fist. Immediately he sensed Mikhail's energy, and he realized what Armada had done. Whatever that 'necklace' was, it as effectively masking Mikhail's ki. Now that Armada destroyed it, the thief's energy was detectable, and he certainly was no android with the amount of energy he was emitting. With Mikhail's shirt still in his grasp, Trunks pressed forward with his attack, and threw his left fist toward his enemy's face.

 

Mikhail blocked the attack with his right forearm, and used the inertia from Trunks's attack to spin backward to his left and away from his attacker. His shirt ripped and Trunks was left holding a handful of cloth as Mikhail turned and attempted to plant his left elbow into Armada's face. She caught his attack with her hands and countered with a right knee into the side of his ribcage. Her attack connected, and Mikhail charged a ki blast in his right hand in retaliation. Both Armada and Trunks immediately backed away, and Mikhail fired at Armada, just barely missing his target. His attack destroyed a large chunk of the building behind her and several floors above, as he aimed slightly up.

 

Trunks stopped himself in the air several meters away from where Mikhail had fired that blast, and the building rumbled and shook from the thief-mercenary's attack. The demi-Saiyan figured that a hundred year old ruined skyscraper in a city destroyed by a nuclear bomb was probably already unstable, and energy attacks that large certainly weren't helping any. He looked up and saw Armada had moved farther up into the structure after that last attack, and their eyes met briefly.

 

Mikhail had taken the opportunity to disappear during his previous assault, which wasn't really meant to do any damage. He wasn't gone long though, and just as Trunks thought he sensed Mikhail much farther up into the building, he appeared in front of Trunks not even two meters away. After seeing him appear, Trunks knew he had seen that kind of teleportation technique before. However he had no time to think on it, as Mikhail already has an energy blast charged in his hands. He fired, and with no time to flee Trunks could only return fire to deflect Mikhai's attack.

 

Armada flew in to take a swipe at Mikhail as he fired upon Trunks, but he was prepared for her attack. He turned and parried her punch with his left forearm and slammed the heel of his right hand upward, connecting with the bottom of her chin. Her head was pushed up, so she struck out at him with her right knee. He pulled back and caught her knee in his hands, then used his momentum to turn and throw her away from him. Armada righted herself in the air but Mikhail immediately began firing small energy blasts at her. She flew down toward the floor of the building while barely dodging his attacks.

 

Taking the opportunity presented by Mikhail's focus on his comrade, Trunks launched another attack. Mikhail's eyes darted over to meet Trunks's just before he disappeared again. Trunks stopped in midair where the thief disappeared and focused on finding his ki. He was now _certain_ that what he saw was similar to Goku's instantaneous movement, if not the same thing. The problem was that Mikhail seemed to be able to employ it much faster than Goku, and in succession without missing a beat. Growing tired of this game, Trunks immediately powered up and transformed. Mikhail could teleport but he hadn't gone very far, so maybe Trunks could just use pure speed to keep up with him. When he sensed Mikahil several floors above, he took off after him.

 

Armada dodged the last of Mikhail's barrage of small but powerful ki blasts when she felt a sudden overwhelming energy explode. Her head snapped up just in time to see Trunks with a golden aura, his hair turned the same shade of gold as it floated up around him. She immediately faltered, and felt her stomach leap into her throat. _This_ was the energy she had sensed, but now to see it... it was something else. She'd never heard of such a feat; it was impossible. Or so she had thought until she had felt it, and now she had _seen_ it with her own eyes.

 

When Trunks cornered Mikhail higher in the building, he finally made an attempt at a defense. Trunks reached for him and Mikhail's hands met his, and they grappled. “ _Dasra von'te!_ ” Mikhail screamed as his own energy unleashed and skyrocketed. It was clear to Trunks that this might be a challenge for him, and that Armada stood no chance one-on-one with the thief. He would have to handle this, and that was fine with him.

 

That was when Mikhail surged forward, trying to headbutt Trunks. Trunks backed up to avoid the hit, and Mikhail fled once more. Armada flew up toward her comrade, stopping where Mikhail disappeared from again. Trunks caught her eyes for a moment before she turned away. He didn't get time to think about it when Mikhail appeared before them again but almost instantly disappeared. He continued appearing and disappearing in rapid succession around them. Trunks charged a ki blast in his right hand, waiting for the moment to strike.

 

As soon as Trunks thought he had him, Mikhail appeared from nothing again, this time with a large weapon that looked like a rocket launcher in his hands. Trunks's eyes widened as he realized that was the weapon they were here for, but there was no time to move. Mikhail fired it almost instantaneously when he appeared in front of Trunks, and the demi-Saiyan couldn't dodge it. A wave passed through the air, passed through Trunks, and the walls behind him. He didn't feel anything when it happened, it was like his body just went numb and his eyesight went black. He didn't even feel himself falling as he collapsed to the ground several stories below.

 

Armada's eyes widened in shock as she watched the scene play out in front of her. She watched as his eyes rolled back into his head, and his hair faded from its golden hue back to normal. After Trunks's body fell, she saw the perfectly circular hole in the walls behind him and the cloud of dust in the air. _Is that... some kind of sonic device?_ Armada thought in a panic. It had literally disintegrated the environment around Trunks. How could someone live through that?

 

“Trunks!” she shouted as she snapped out of her thoughts. She made a move to fly toward him and catch him before he hit the ground, but she was stopped by Mikhail's left elbow smashing into her face. She stumbled back for a moment, a small trail of blood already running from her nose. Before she had a chance to put up a defense, Mikhail descended upon her. She lost track of how many hits she took in the ensuing onslaught, but it didn't matter. She could sense Mikhail's energy clearly, and despite what she had seen she could also sense that Trunks was not dead. If he was going to have any chance at getting out alive, she had to get Mikhail away from him... no matter the cost.

 

 

-+-

 

 

It took a few agonizing seconds for Trunks to breathe. He almost thought time itself had stopped, with the way his body went numb and his lungs frozen. Once he was able to breathe, he could focus his senses for a moment. As the pain started to roll in, lighting up his nerves throughout his entire body, he could begin trying to move. His vision was still completely black, but he was able to start moving his fingers. His left hand grabbed whatever it could, and his fingers wrapped around a few pieces of concrete rubble.

 

Suddenly his ability to sense ki came back to him, and he could track what was going on. It only took a few seconds for him to realize that Armada was moving away from him. For a moment he was curious, but as she darted farther away he quickly realized what she was doing. _No..._ he thought in anguish as the reality of the situation sank in. She was leading _him_ away, and Trunks knew what that meant. Armada wasn't strong enough to defeat him. But she was protecting him yet again, pulling the danger away even if they both knew what that meant.

 

If Trunks didn't get up in the next thirty seconds, she was going to die. And he would likely follow after her. _No...!_ he screamed inside his head once more. He had to get up, he _had_ to. There was no time; it felt like they had already left the building, Armada flying away with Mikhail chasing her. He focused for a moment, and after what felt like reaching for something with all his might to only touch it with his fingertips, he finally found his ki once more.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Mikhail unleashed another barrage of ki blasts at her, and Armada did all she could to avoid them. A volley of small but powerful blasts was difficult to navigate on its own, but Mikhail could redirect his energy after firing it, which made it even harder. She moved to avoid one that exploded to her left when it hit the concrete wall of the building they were in, but she couldn't escape the blast that hit her square in the middle of her back. It exploded and forced her down toward the ground, where she landed in a bunch of decrepit debris which created a cloud of dust from her collision.

 

She clenched her teeth as she pushed herself up off of the ground. Blood ran down her face from a gash on the top of her head. She was hurt, but nothing serious yet. Was Mikhail toying with her? What would be the point? When she managed to rise to her feet, she turned to look for him above. They had moved away from Trunks and were in a different building now, what appeared to be the remains of an office highrise. Several floors were broken away, and from where she stood Armada could see up into a few floors above. Suddenly Mikhail appeared in one of the floors above her, but before she had a chance to react a beam of ki came flying into the building and enveloped Mikhail in a blinding light.

 

Or she thought he'd been hit by the attack, but he appeared a meter in front of her with an attack of his own charged in both of his hands. Just as he went to fire, another blast shot into the building and this one _did_ make contact with Mikhail. The energy in his hands mixed with that which was fired at him and exploded, sending both Armada and Mikhail flying apart.

 

Mikhail crashed through at least one wall before he was able to recover and right himself in the air. Trunks appeared in front of him, transformed, and started throwing punches. Mikhail couldn't get away, and took a barrage of hits. Blood started running from his mouth, and Trunks stopped hitting him for a moment to charge energy in his right hand. Mikhail took the split second opening he was given to disappear, and Trunks's blast only served to incinerate several floors of the rundown building behind his enemy.

 

Trunks's chest heaved as he tried to focus his senses on where Mikhail ran off too. His body felt like it was on fire, and both his vision and his thoughts felt cloudy. He could sense Armada somewhere nearby, though he couldn't tell exactly where she was. Mikhail had dropped off of his radar again. Where was he going? Was he teleporting long distances and then coming back again?

 

Sitting up slowly, Armada winced as she put her right hand to the back of her head. That explosion had sent her hurtling through the office building and into the street where she was now. She looked at her right hand as she got up to one knee to see blood, as she suspected. She finally stood upright, pushing away the remnants of the car that had stopped her motion, and took a look at around. She thought she'd just been tossed into the street from the explosion that resulted from Trunks's attack, but she quickly realized she was wrong. She found herself several blocks away, dust hanging in the sky as far as she could see.

 

She took off back toward Trunks, figuring Mikhail would be nearby though she didn't sense him _again._ The Lacus device he was wearing had been tuned to his energy signature to mask it, but she'd already destroyed that. She found it hard to believe he would have another. A moment later, she had found her way back to where she was initially, and the building looked like it was ready to collapse. Trunks was floating much higher up into the building than where she had been, and he was in _that state_. His aura was downright suffocating, but she didn't have time to worry about that now. They had a job to do.

 

That was when Mikhail reappeared once more, halfway between the two mercenaries but off to Armada's left. Trunks was facing away from both his comrade and the thief, and Mikahil had that weapon in his hands, aimed at the demi-Saiyan. Despite the enormity of his energy, Armada could sense that Trunks's ki was erratic—he was injured, and it was pretty serious. If he took another blast from that weapon, he may not get up again.

 

Armada flew at Mikhail as fast as she could, and apparently he hadn't noticed her when he arrived. He turned to face her, his eyes widening slightly. At the same time, Trunks had caught wind of what was happening, and turned toward the pair. Mikhail tried to dodge Armada's attack, but he predicted her behavior incorrectly. She reached for the weapon, not him, and managed to get her left hand around the long barrel near the end. Mikhail yanked backward from her, and fired.

 

Trunks's eyes widened in shock. He would have been in the path of that blast, unable to move out of the way in time had his partner not attacked Mikhail. Instead, Armada's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground like a stone. He took off toward Mikhail, who aimed at Trunks and pulled the trigger. Instead of firing, the weapon sparked and jammed. Mikhail threw it to the ground but not before Trunks was able to hit the thief with his right fist.

 

Mikhail's power spiked but it was still nothing compared to Trunks, even severely injured. After taking a flurry of hits, Mikhail made a quick move and was able to catch Trunks's left hand on his right. Without missing a beat, Trunks reached up with his right hand and drew his sword. In a flash, he sliced into the inside of Mikhail's right forearm, almost severing the limb. Mikhail hissed and flew backward, his left hand immediately moving to cover the wound on his other arm.

 

He continued flying backwards, quickly running out of space in the building. Sensing that Mikhail was going to run again, Trunks surged forward and thrust his sword into the thief's left shoulder. Mikhail cried out and the world around them swirled into a mash of colors. Trunks felt disorientated, and a moment later everything came back into view and they were high in the sky above the ruined section of Virda City below.

 

The thief glared at the mercenary with a pained face. Holding his sword steady in Mikhail's shoulder to keep him from fleeing, Trunks used his left hand to fire a ki blast point blank in the thief's chest. With a sizable hole in his chest, Mikhail's eyes dulled, and Trunks pulled his sword loose. The thief's body fell, and Trunks only watched for a moment before his attention was diverted elsewhere. Helicopters with sirens blaring were headed his direction. He figured that they must have set off energy sensors with their fight. Armada had previously explained that most advanced nations like Bmyhad and Virda could at least track energy usage even if they had no plan to deal with it. Virda police were headed his way, so it was time to leave.

 

A moment later he was back in the office building they had left behind. He quickly found the Venetian weapon, but he had a harder time locating Armada. He'd powered down from super Saiyan, and was really starting to feel the ache from whatever that weapon had shot him with. Nothing hit him directly, so it wasn't like a traditional weapon. He figured it must have been some type of sonic device, and whatever it was put him in so much pain it was hard to focus. After searching for a minute, he finally found his comrade.

 

She was unconscious and barely breathing. He knew his injuries were bad, but he never considered she would be much worse. Then again, he carried a genetic healing factor thanks to his father; he had no way of knowing if she possessed such a thing. It seemed like she didn't. Regardless, he had to get them out of Virda as soon as possible. He hefted her body up and slung her over his right shoulder so his left hand would be free to carry the weapon. What would be the point in coming so far to leave it now?

 

Within a few minutes he'd avoided the authorities and made it back to the ship. Once inside he dropped the weapon in the hallway and immediately flew to the infirmary with his comrade in tow. He set her down in one of the beds in the infirmary and paused for a moment. His head swam and he swayed on his feet. Trunks grabbed the edge of the bed to stabilize himself. When he had control of himself again, he started to panic. The whole way back he'd been focused on getting to the ship, now that he stood next to his partner he realized her ki was flickering and extremely low, and it wasn't being suppressed. Realization hit him like a bucket of cold water to the face; if he didn't get her medical treatment soon, she would die.

 

He floated back to the bridge and sat down in the pilot's seat. His head still felt foggy, and he couldn't concentrate. He looked up at the main monitor, but he had no idea where to begin. She'd never shown him how to fly the ship. He tried to navigate the menus to find something of use, but to no avail. Panic rose up from his stomach and he felt sick. Trunks grabbed his hair at the scalp with his left hand and squeezed in frustration. What was he going to do? He didn't know how to fly the ship and Armada was dying. They were in Virda City, on another planet a significant distance from Bmyhad, and he had no idea where he could take her for treatment. Even if he managed to get the ship moving, it had taken them three days to get to Virda, and he was certain she didn't have three days to wait.

 

 _No...!_ Trunks thought in anguish as he hunched over the pilot's console in the bridge of the ship. He willed himself to think, to come up with a way out of this. But as the seconds ticked by, hope slowly slipped away from him.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading! My apologies for the cliffhanger, but sometimes you just have to cut things off before you move on to the next part. :]

 

Silvia


	11. Interlude: Mia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for his comrade to wake up in the hospital, Trunks thinks about the friends he left at home, along with the problems still waiting for him there.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

Note: Lots of flashbacks this chapter, and weird formatting. I hope it's understandable, and please leave feedback if you have the time. :>

 

 

-+-

 

 

In the ruined neighborhood of Bexley in eastern-central West City, Trunks sat behind the wheel of his mother's hovercar. She had tucked it away in the ground-level parking garage of the collapsed building above his head. Well, mostly collapsed, as the parking garage was still intact. From the sky, nobody would ever know there was an area to hide underneath all that busted concrete and rebar. Which was precisely why Bulma had settled the hovercar in that spot.

 

It was early fall but still pretty warm outside. Trunks was glad to be in the shade. He didn't mind his mother leaving him to sit in the car for this particular grocery trip, as yesterday had been a rather punishing day of training with Gohan. It was hardly Trunks's fault; his fourteen year old body was resilient but couldn't keep up with Gohan who had nine years on him. He was sporting a nasty bruise across his chest, and he'd hoped his mother wouldn't notice. He was never quite sure when he was getting something past her. Sometimes she would play dumb just to catch him red-handed. Sometimes it seemed like she really was clueless. But she was so damn _smart;_ she was a genius, and he had a really tough time hiding things from her. He wondered if she knew he'd started training with Gohan. But... she had to know, to his mind at least. He wasn't a particularly good liar, but not for lack of trying.

 

Trunks let himself fall backward into the driver's seat and sink into the cushioning. Technically, he wasn't old enough to drive at fourteen, but since the androids showed up nobody was really concerned with issuing traffic citations. His eyes fell halfway closed and he silently cursed Gohan for how tired he was. Surely his mother would notice if she hadn't already. He _really_ wasn't in the mood for a lecture from her. As he mulled over who irritated him more between his mother and his mentor, Trunks heard the sounds of feet shuffling nearby. His head perked up and his eyes shot open. It was easy to wake up when you had to be on alert for psychotic cyborgs who made a game of killing people.

 

A moment later, his mother came around the corner of the parking garage, and Trunks relaxed. Until he saw that his mother had some girl's arm wrapped around her shoulder, helping the girl walk. He realized she had blood all over her lap and down her legs, staining the pale pink dress she wore. “Trunks!” his mother shouted to him and his eyes snapped back to hers. “Get the car started!” Bulma yelled as she dragged the girl closer.

 

Trunks did as told, and when the hovercar roared to life he turned around to see his mother loading the girl into the backseat. When the black haired girl got in, Bulma instructed her to lay down across the seats. Trunks's eyes widened as the girl did as told, because now he could see clearly that she was _pregnant_. He turned back around to face forward and blushed; his mother made sure that he had a decent education despite the androids and he knew how people reproduced. He'd never met a woman who was pregnant. He felt awkward.

 

His mother closed the backdoor after the girl pulled her legs in and immediately got into the passenger seat. “Drive us home Trunks, and take the old highway six-seventy,” Bulma said flatly before turning around and leaning into the space between his seat and hers. “It'll be okay,” he heard her say in a soothing voice to the girl in the backseat. Trunks put the hovercar into gear and took off. If his mother wanted him to take the old highway, then speed was of the utmost importance. That highway sat above most of the city and they would be very obvious to the androids as they traveled.

 

Trunks prayed they didn't run into the androids. He was in no shape to fight and he knew he wouldn't be able to protect his mother and this girl at the same time. The ride back to their home at Capsule Corporation headquarters was the longest fifteen minutes of Trunks's life.

 

 

-+-

 

Illumination

Interlude: Mia

 

 

-+-

 

 

_Strip away the flesh and bone,_

_Look beyond the lies you've known._

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks let out a frustrated sigh and tried not to put his fist through the console sitting before him. He lifted his head and looked at the group of monitors in the front of the bridge, still no closer to a solution. He felt weak and his mind was muddled; his adrenaline was going back down to normal levels and whatever the hell that weapon was that hit him was apparently having a larger effect than he thought at first. But there was no time to worry about himself, if he didn't do something soon, Armada would die. A sudden thought stuck him; what if he just let her die? He could leave and go back home, and be done with all of this. _No!_ he felt himself shout inside his head. He wasn't like that, he wouldn't do that to her. The memory replayed in his mind again, where she flew up and grabbed the weapon in Mikhail's hands, pulling it away from him as it fired. No, she had taken that hit for him, she had _protected_ him; he'd be damned if he let her die now. Trunks wasn't as pure of heart as Goku, but he sure as hell wasn't about to let someone die for him.

 

He flew up from his seat and back to the infirmary to check on her. He'd merely dumped her unconscious body into one of the beds in the infirmary before rushing back to the bridge. He didn't know what to do. Their medical supplies could help some significant injuries, but this had to be internal. That prototype Venetian weapon had fired some kind of shockwave, and she was probably bleeding internally. Trunks did the only thing he could think of, and grabbed a bag of artificial blood as well as fluids. He removed her left arm guard and rolled her sleeve up to run both lines into her arm. He hoped that he wasn't making things worse, but he really had no idea.

 

After accomplishing that task, he turned away from her. He couldn't look at Armada because it made him feel like vomiting. Because he'd let her get in the way. Why she even did that in the first place both confused and infuriated him. He didn't need her protection, but the logical part of his mind said that clearly he did otherwise he'd likely be dead. But why? Why would she put herself in harm's way for him? They barely knew each other, and what he _did_ know about her he didn't care for. She was an irrational, heartless asshole. Or at least he'd thought so. Now he didn't know what he thought, except the overwhelming desire to pull her from the grip of death.

 

But she couldn't help him; she couldn't tell him how to pilot the ship. He had nobody here to help, and he had to figure this out himself. Another thought suddenly hit him, and he flew to his room so fast that when he stopped all the items inside blew around from the sudden gust of wind. Trunks quickly grabbed his phone and dialed the only other number he had programmed in it besides that of his comrade. While he waited through the beeping tones indicating the other line was waiting to pickup, he ran back to the bridge. Finally when he heard the other end of the line pickup, he started blurting everything out before Quarry had a chance to speak.

 

“Q,” Trunks called out, sounding out of breath. “I'm stranded in a ship I don't know how to fly and my comrade's going to die if I don't get her to a hospital soon,” he said in a rush of breath before taking a moment to swallow.

 

“ _Toran_?” Q asked on the other side of the line. “ _Wait, what? Slow down, tell me what's going on,_ ” he said, sounding like he'd been woken out of a deep sleep.

 

“I can't,” Trunks took a deep breath, his right hand running up into his hair as he held the phone up to his left ear with his left hand. “I can't pilot the ship, and she's gonna die if I don't do something,” he said, panic welling up again. Why had he called Q? What did he expect, they barely knew each other.

 

“ _The mercenary,_ ” Quarry said lowly, more to himself than to Trunks. “ _Okay, where are you?_ ” he asked, his words slow as if he was willing Trunks to slow down.

 

“In the ship, docked in Virda City,” Trunks said, using his right hand to steady himself against the back of one of the seats in the bridge. The dizziness was getting worse. “I know we can get treatment in Bmyhad,” he added through deep breaths, “but I can't fly the ship, and it'll take too long to get there.”

 

“ _Hold on a minute,_ ” Q said, and Trunks thought he heard clicking in the background. “ _Just a second... there,_ ” he added, and Trunks's eyes flew up as the monitors in the bridge started to display different images.

 

Was Q controlling the ship? “How...?” Trunks started to ask but found himself cut off with laughter.

 

“ _Come on, this is easy stuff for me,_ ” Quarry said with mirth. Before Trunks could respond the ship's engines roared to life beneath his feet, and he felt himself sway as the ship slowly started to move. “ _I tapped into the data stream between our devices and hopped into your ship's network. I've got control, tell me where you want to go_ ,” he finished. Trunks moved around to the front of the seat he was holding on to and sat down, thinking of where to go. “ _Wait,_ ” Q broke in, “ _didn't you say you could get treatment in Bmyhad? Can she make it three hours?_ ”

 

“What are you talking about?!” Trunks found himself yelling even though he hadn't meant to. “Q, it took us three days to get to Virda!”

 

“ _What?_ ” Quarry replied in shock. “ _How...?_ ” he said lowly, as if he were taking to himself. The line went quiet except for the sounds of clicking on the other end. Trunks tried to think. He knew the code to the safe, surely they had enough money to pay for medical attention, the problem was where to go. At least in Ute he knew Dr Rema could handle people like himself and Armada.

 

“ _The Salazs threshold!_ ” Quarry's voice piped up from the phone in Trunks's hand. “ _She was flying the ship below the Salazs threshold, that's why it took so long!_ ” Trunks was about to ask what the hell Q was talking about, when his friend anticipated his question and answered. “ _During FTL travel, if you fly at relatively 'low' speeds for FTL, you can mask the displacement of particles that your vehicle creates as it flies by deploying a Salazs field. However, at higher speeds it doesn't work. Meaning if you want to sneak around space, you've gotta fly slow. From the ship's logs, you guys were flying just under the Salazs threshold, the point at which the field is no longer effective._ ”

 

“Q,” Trunks broke in, his voice sounding strained. He didn't particularly _care_ about all of this at the moment, and Quarry picked up on it from just the sound of his voice.

 

“ _Considering this is an emergency, at full engine output I can get you back to Ute just under three hours from now,_ ” Q spoke and Trunks heard more frantic clicking in the background. “ _Can she last that long?_ ” he asked, concern seeping into his tone.

 

“I don't know,” Trunks answered honestly, “but it's our only shot.”

 

“ _Gotcha,_ ” Q replied and the ship shot upward. Trunks fell forward and gripped the pilot's console in front of him. The sudden acceleration was unreal; he'd never felt the ship move so quickly, even when they were running from Taydr when the ship was being fired on. Trunks's vision went black, and after some vigorous blinking it finally came back. It took him another few seconds to realize that Q was calling out to him.

 

“Yeah?” Trunks responded to his friend, letting out a deep breath as he felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his right temple.

 

“ _I'm gonna call you back when it's time to land, okay?_ ” Quarry began. “ _I'll need you to help maneuver the ship manually to get it back in the hangar in Ute._ ”

 

“Yeah,” Trunks answered, his eyes squinting as his head spun. He briefly wondered how Q had opened up the hangar they were parked in on Virda, but figured he'd just hacked into it like he'd done with Armada's ship. Quarry said something else and then hung up, but Trunks didn't hear what it was. He got up and slowly wandered back to the infirmary. If things took a turn for the worse, he'd be there, even if he had no idea what he could do.

 

 

-+-

 

 

When they arrived at the Briefs compound and got out of the hovercar, Bulma helped the girl walk toward the house. “Trunks, call Gohan and tell him to bring Dr Battelle here, _now_!” Bulma shouted to her son as she nearly carried the young woman into the house through the sliding glass doors in the back of the kitchen.

 

“Yes mother!” Trunks called out as he flew in behind her and went straight upstairs to grab the telephone. No sooner had he dialed Gohan's number, his mentor picked up.

 

“ _What's going on?_ ” Gohan immediately asked. He'd sensed that Trunks's ki felt anxious on the trip back to Capsule Corporation and knew something was wrong, though he knew his pupil wasn't fighting the androids.

 

“Mother found a girl who needs help, she told me to tell you to go get Dr Battelle and bring him here now!” Trunks blurted out in a single breath.

 

“ _All right, I'll be right over,_ ” Gohan said and hung up without further discussion. Trunks flew back downstairs to his mother, still holding onto the phone. He followed her ki downstairs toward a few of the old labs they didn't use anymore. He figured it was the best thing they had since the old infirmary in the south building was currently full of rubble, having been destroyed by an errant ki blast from one of the androids last year. Bulma told him at the time to not bother with the south building; they needed to conserve precious resources for the underground lab and their home in the west building.

 

His mother had the girl up on one of the tables closer to the center of the room, a white sheet between her and the metal countertop. Bulma had already inserted an IV with fluids into the girl's arm, and when she realized her son was in the doorway she turned to face him. “Trunks, can you go get me some more towels? Also, start a pot of water on the stove to boil,” she said with an assertive calm. He could tell his mother was worried, but she had grown so used to dealing with crises over the years she just fell back into that mode when the situation demanded it. Trunks nodded to her, and flew back upstairs.

 

The first thing he did was fill a large pot with water, set it on one of the burners on the stove in the kitchen, and turn the heat all the way up. The water would take longer to boil than anything else she would ask of him, so it was better to start that first. He then dashed upstairs and grabbed armfuls of towels out of the closet in the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen. When he came back downstairs, he wasn't surprised to see Gohan and Dr Battelle walking into Bulma's makeshift infirmary since he sensed his mentor's ki had arrived when he was upstairs.

 

“What do we have, Bulma?” Dr Battelle asked, sounding out of breath. The doctor wasn't much older than Bulma but he had a lot more gray hairs mixed in with the brown, and he wore a set of glasses. Trunks walked in behind him and put all the towels he was carrying on one of the empty tables at the side of the room while his mother and the doctor conversed.

 

“Thank _Kami_ you're here, Frank,” Bulma said while she wiped at her forehead with the back of her right forearm. It was then that Trunks saw all the blood covering his mother's hands. “She said she's thirty-six weeks along, and the contractions are two minutes apart. There's so much blood,” she started, shaking her head when the doctor cut her off.

 

“It's okay Bulma, we'll take care of her,” Frank replied, giving her a reassuring smile. He continued talking to Bulma, but Trunks stopped listening when Gohan called for him from the other side of the open door.

 

“Let's get out of the way,” Gohan said with a worried smile when Trunks walked over to him, placing his right hand on his pupil's left shoulder. “They'll call for us if they need us,” Gohan added as they walked away. Trunks was secretly glad to be pulled away; the whole situation made him feel helpless and awkward.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks felt like something was pulling at his attention, but he had no idea what. Something in the back of his mind told him to move, to get up, but he wasn't sure what it was. After a few moments of this haze, his eyes finally snapped open and he realized that his phone was ringing on the floor next to him. He snatched it up and answered, but couldn't immediately form words as his mind was still foggy.

 

“ _It's about damn time,_ ” he heard Q's voice chastise him on the other end. “ _I called you six times already!_ ”

 

“Sorry,” Trunks said automatically, glancing around to regain his bearings. He was sitting on the floor in the infirmary, his knees pulled up to his chest. He slowly pushed himself up off the floor, and turned around. He'd been leaned back against the bed his comrade laid in. He glanced over and both the synthetic blood and hydrating fluid bags were empty. He'd meant to change them out, but must have fallen asleep as he waited. His body ached all over, and he walked to the bridge, trying to work out the stiffness in his muscles.

 

He slumped into the pilot's chair and closed his eyes for a moment to clear his vision. He could see what was in front of him, but he felt like he couldn't focus. He set his phone down with it set to speaker mode so he could still hear Q. Luckily for him, Quarry seemed to know exactly what levers to pull and buttons to push, and was able to guide Trunks on exactly what to do. The demi-Saiyan was grateful, because his head still felt like it was full of water. If Q didn't lead him by the nose every step of the way, he wasn't sure he could think clearly enough to follow his instructions otherwise.

 

The moment the ship successfully landed in the hangar, Trunks told Q to handle the rest and flew back to grab his comrade. One thing he could still follow despite everything was the seemingly normal ki of Dr. Rema, and it was nearby at the hospital.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Gohan and Trunks sat upstairs watching old movies in the small sitting room next to the kitchen. They didn't want to go too far away from Dr. Battelle and Bulma in case they called for help, but they also needed to do something to occupy their minds. Both young men had excellent hearing and had to turn up the television to drown out that girl's screaming. A few hours later, things had settled down and they hadn't heard any screaming for nearly forty minutes. That was when Bulma and Dr. Battelle walked into the room.

 

Trunks paused the television and Gohan immediately stood up. “Gohan, can you take Frank back home?” Bulma asked as she wiped her right forearm against her forehead. Gohan nodded and took a step toward Dr. Battelle, and Bulma moved her gaze to meet the doctor's eyes. “Thank you so much for your help, Frank,” she said with a tired and forced smile.

 

“Anytime Bulma,” the doctor replied, and it was the first time that Trunks noticed the gray hairs around the doctor's temples. “This is what I do,” he added with a strained smile. After a slight nod to Bulma, the doctor walked toward the door. Gohan nodded to Bulma as well and followed after Dr. Battelle, knowing that he would need to fly him home.

 

After they walked out, Bulma looked over at Trunks and let out a big sigh. “Hey kid,” she said with a tired smile and shifted her weight on her feet. “There's someone I'd like you to meet.”

 

Trunks followed behind his mother nervously as they walked downstairs to the underground labs, back to that lab she had taken the girl to earlier. He wasn't sure if what happened was good or bad, because his mother was so exhausted he couldn't get a straight reading from her ki. What happened? He thought he sensed the girl's ki but something about it felt different, something that he couldn’t identify. He didn't think she was dead, at least.

 

When they finally made it to the lab and walked into the room, Trunks was almost stunned at what he saw. The girl with black hair was awake and sitting up, a pile of blankets covering her. Her face was pale and sweaty, and her hair was a mess, but she was smiling. He then realized the small bundle of blankets she was holding to her chest _wasn't_ blankets, it was a baby.

 

Bulma walked over to the girl's bedside and looked to her son. She smiled and tilted her head, beckoning him to come closer. Trunks swallowed hard and followed his mother to where she stood. “Trunks, this is Mia and her son, Terrence,” Bulma introduced them with smile.

 

“Hi,” Mia said to Trunks and smiled. She seemed absolutely exhausted and yet happier than Trunks had seen anyone in years; it was written in her brown eyes.

 

 

-+-

 

 

For the first time since the fight with Mikhail, Trunks was able to open his eyes without much effort. He pushed himself to sit up, quickly realizing he had fallen asleep in the private waiting room he'd been ushered to earlier. He took a deep breath to stretch his lungs. He wasn't as disoriented as he'd been, but somehow he initially missed Nurse Ran sitting next to him. He looked down and saw that she had her hands on his right arm, and as soon as his gaze wandered up to her eyes she pulled out the needle that was inserted in the crook of his arm.

 

“You were really dehydrated,” she said as she wound up the line and an empty bag of what Trunks guessed was just fluids. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, opening her mouth without speaking for a few seconds before she continued. “I didn't want to wake you, you looked like you needed some rest,” she finished as she reached for his arm again, quickly placing a small bandage over the pinprick left behind by the IV.

 

Trunks opened his mouth to respond, but his thoughts were distracted. Somehow Ran had managed to remove his jacket, as it was sitting folded in the chair behind her, and stick him with a needle. How had she done that? Was he really that exhausted? He felt terrible after the fight with Mikhail, but maybe it was worse than he thought. If all she did was give him some fluids, it certainly did the trick. Because while he still felt sore, his head was clear and his thoughts more focused. Maybe he just needed to rest and let his Saiyan genes do their work. Either way, he felt much better than he had earlier.

 

Another thought hit him, and he finally spoke. “How long was I out? Is Armada still in surgery?”

 

Ran's face fell, though she still kept eye contact with Trunks. “That's why I came back... Dr. Rema just finished a few minutes ago. He's on his way to see you, but you should leave... now,” Ran said calmly but with a sense of urgency.

 

“Why?” Trunks asked, his face contorting in confusion. He was waiting to hear what his comrade's condition was, and he'd already waited _Kami_ -knows-how-long.

 

“Your friend's going to be okay, but Dr. Rema is furious,” Ran said after biting her lip for a moment. “Trust me, you don't want to be on the receiving end of that.” It wasn't fear on the young woman's face, but she was gravely concerned about it.

 

Trunks was about to explain to the kind nurse that there was no way in hell he was leaving at this point. He'd waited in this stupid waiting room because he wasn't her immediate family and wasn't allowed to go upstairs. Initially when he brought Armada in he tried to lie and say that he was, but without any kind of ID they refused him. Which was smart on the part of the hospital, though frustrating for him. However, he never got the opportunity to object to the brunette nurse because the door to the small private waiting room burst open and cut him off at the pass.

 

“I don't know what the hell you did,” Dr. Rema shouted as he strode in, walking right up to Trunks without missing a beat, “but I've never seen anything like that in my life.” Trunks instinctively stood while Nurse Ran stayed seated and inched farther into her seat to get away from the angry doctor. Dr. Rema jabbed Trunks in the chest with the index finger of his right hand, literally making his point as he continued his tirade. “Roughly seventy-percent of her abdominal cavity was _liquefied_ ,” Rema yelled, nearly grinding his teeth on the last word of his sentence. “We had to flash clone five of her major organs because _there was nothing left of them!_ ”

 

Trunks suddenly thought he was going to vomit. He'd never imagined that weapon was capable of that kind of damage... it was far worse than he'd thought. “Is—” Trunks started but was cut off again by Dr. Rema.

 

“ _Don't_ ,” the surgeon ground out angrily. “Don't say a goddamn word,” he continued, his face slightly red with anger. “You ever bring her back here again in that kind of condition and I promise you, _you_ won't be leaving,” he said lowly but clear enough that Trunks got the message. “Ran!” he shouted, turning his attention to the nurse while her eyes shot up to meet his in answer. “Clean up this mess,” Dr. Rema spat angrily before throwing another furious glare at Trunks. He then turned and strode out just as quickly as he came.

 

Trunks was stunned. Clearly Dr. Rema cared about Armada, which was downright shocking. He understood from when he first me the man that the doctor knew her, and wasn't afraid of her, but _caring_ for _her?_ How the hell had _that_ happened? He stared at the door, unmoving until he felt a tug on his right arm.

 

“Come on,” Nurse Ran said, her face looking pained. “The surgery took twenty hours, so Dr. Rema has to leave the hospital now, and stay out for eight hours by law,” she said softly, and Trunks finally caught her gaze. “I'll take you upstairs. Your friend has been moved to the critical care ward on the fourteenth floor,” Ran finished, letting go of Trunks's arm as she headed for the door. He reached over and grabbed his jacket, throwing it on before they left the waiting room.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“This wasn't supposed to happen!” Trunks shouted as he slammed his right fist down onto the kitchen counter, panic seeping into his voice.

 

“Trunks,” Bulma said her seventeen year old son's name with a sense of warning as her eyes narrowed at him. She wouldn't tolerate an outburst like this from him, no matter the circumstances.

 

“No!” he shouted back at her, unwilling to let his frustration be silenced. “I was supposed to come back and have to prove to you who I was because _everything had changed_!” he continued his tirade. He stared at his mother with a pained expression; he wanted to say more but the anger was quickly dissolving into despair. “Nothing has changed, it's exactly like it was when I left,” he said, his voice low with pain.

 

“Hey,” Bulma said, noticing that his eyes fell away from hers. “We knew this was a possibility from the start,” she began, her voice even but forceful. “From the moment we talked about building a time machine, I explained to you that there are multiple competing theories—”

 

“I know,” Trunks cut her off tersely.

 

“I narrowed it down to two theories,” Bulma continued slowly, her volume increasing to indicate to her son that she didn't appreciate being interrupted. “Either you would go back and effectively change our present, so that the world you returned to here would be different, or you would enter an alternate time stream and change the future of that world, while ours would remain unchanged.” She paused a moment, pain flashing across her face momentarily before she steeled her emotions again. “At least we saved their future,” she added wistfully. If only it were their own they had changed.

 

Silence passed between them for a moment. “What do we do?” Trunks finally spoke up. When Bulma met his gaze she felt her heart break a little. His eyes welled with unshed tears, though his voice stayed even.

 

“We regroup, we come up with another plan,” his mother replied. Honestly, Bulma had no idea what the next step would be. She had been so focused on the time machine for so long that she had not considered a plan B, their next step, should things remain unchanged. She had been more optimistic than she let her son know.

 

“I can't,” Trunks started, but his voice finally cracked, and his eyes stared down at his hands on the counter. “I can't beat them,” he began again in a voice so low it was barely above a whisper. “I'm not strong enough.”

 

“You won't have to,” Bulma answered quickly. “We'll come up with something else. We haven't let failure stop us before, we won't let it stop us now.” She stared at her son, his eyes still down and away from hers. She wasn't about to let him lose himself to despair. If he did, then it really would be over.

 

“There's no time!” Trunks yelled, the tears slipping down his face as he looked back into his mother's eyes. “They're growing bored of toying with me, who knows how long we have before they get serious and kill me?!” he shouted in frustration.

 

“Trunks, don't say that!” Bulma now raised her voice to equal his.

 

“It's just me, mom! I can't train and get stronger fast enough to outpace them,” he continued, his voice shaky. “If they decide to kill me, I can't stop them,” he finished, his voice low and his face plainly displaying the turmoil and distress that he felt. They had put all their hope into the time machine, especially when his mother wrote that word on the side of the damn thing. And now it was all crumbling around them. Trunks was an intelligent young man, and he understood the possibility that things would not happen how he had wished. But emotionally, he was completely invested in changing the past to alter their present, and their _future_. To see that it didn't happen, to realize that the entire time he hoped for it to happen that it would never come to be, was devastating. Intellectually he _knew_ this was a possibility, this was a potential result of all of their work, but emotionally he never considered it.

 

“You just got back, let's take a break for a few days,” Bulma replied, trying to calm her son down. “We still have the time machine, we can still go back if we need to.” Trunks opened his mouth to object, but Bulma wouldn't let him. “I know,” she continued, emphasizing her words with her hands, “it's not going to change things here, but it's still a tool in our arsenal. We may find a different use for it now knowing what we know.” Trunks's gaze fell away from hers, but it wasn't in shame or an attempt to hide his emotions. His gaze was focused inward, as he thought about her words and considered what she proposed. Before either of them could say anything else, they heard something fall to the floor at the end of the hallway leading into the kitchen.

 

“You... you have a time machine?” Mia was standing in the doorway, her hands shaking and the mug she was holding laying on the carpeted floor, having dropped from her hands. “You traveled through time?” she asked, her voice as shaky as her hands while tears streamed down her face.

 

“Mia,” Bulma said softly while quickly moving out from around the counter and running over to the girl. Trunks stared in shock at Mia. He should have known she was there, listening; he should have sensed her ki. But he was so distraught and caught up in his own emotions that he'd tuned himself out to the world. Mia was _never_ supposed to hear about this, about _any_ of this. And now she knew.

 

Bulma finally reached Mia and tried to pull the young woman into a hug, but she instinctively pushed the scientist away. “No!” Mia shouted as she began to cry hysterically. “ _No!_ ” she repeated, flailing her arms to keep Bulma from pulling her into a hug. “If you have a time machine then we can go back in time and stop Terry's father from—!”

 

“Mia!” Bulma cut her off harshly, finally pulling her into a hug. Mia tried to keep talking but only gibberish came out as she sobbed uncontrollably into Bulma's shirt. Bulma rubbed the back of Mia's head and held her close, trying to soothe her.

 

Trunks stared at the scene before him, overwhelmed with panic. This wasn't supposed to happen. Mia should never have known about this; _nobody_ was to know about the time machine. Despite Mia and Terry living at the Briefs compound since her son was born, Trunks and his mother had kept their work discreet. They worked in the underground labs, while Mia and Terry stayed in a bedroom at the far southeastern side of the building, to afford them some privacy. Now that was all ruined, because Trunks was careless and hadn't paid attention to what was going on around him since he returned from his trip to the past. Now he had created yet another problem. As if there weren't enough already in trying to save his mother, and trying to save the world.

 

 

-+-

 

 

If Trunks thought seeing Armada laid up in the infirmary made him feel sick, he was wholly unprepared to see her hooked to a litany of machines and monitors. From a cursory glance, she looked marginally better than she had prior to any treatment in that she wasn't quite as pale, but the whole scene was still disconcerting. Nurse Ran went into great detail as to what was discovered during surgery, since she was there, and what exactly had been done about it. From Ran's explanation, Dr. Rema wasn't exaggerating about the extent of her injuries. While she went on about the injuries and treatment, using medical terms that Trunks didn't understand, his mind wandered. How the hell had this happened? It was supposed to be a simple job.

 

After the nurse left, Trunks took a chair and pulled it over next to the one window in the room. He sat and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the windowsill and resting his chin on his arms, while looking out at the Utian skyline. Everything had happened so fast, and it was almost hard for him to remember the details. He wondered if it was from his own injuries, not that it mattered. The more he tried to remember exactly what happened, the more muddled the memory became.

 

None of this made any sense. She went off to fight that Rieve enforcer by herself. She didn't want his help, that much was clear. Armada was, as far as he could tell, _insane_. Well, if not clinically insane, at least a chronic asshole. But she'd stopped him from getting hit by that prototype Venetian weapon a second time, at nearly the cost of her own life. Why? He couldn't work out what motivated her. Maybe she didn't intend to take the hit, but she certainly meant to keep him from being attacked. Which almost fit the idea that she was trying to protect him, and had crossed his mind when she dosed him and locked him in the ship. But that seemed impossible. There had to be some other motivation, but he knew so little about her he didn't have the faintest clue. She had briefly mentioned that she used to be a soldier. Perhaps it was just instinct from her previous training? Who knew.

 

As the hours passed, Trunks started to wonder what the hell _he_ was still doing there. Sitting in a hospital room while she was out cold, and for what purpose? Sure he could admit he felt guilty about her injuries, that he should have finished Mikhail more quickly. But as much as he tried to tell himself he didn't owe her anything, he remembered his own brief stint in this very same hospital. Throwing herself in the way of Mikhail wasn't something he could say with certainty had _saved his life_ , but taking him to the hospital after the poisoning certainly was.

 

Although her response to that was to call him her _merchandise_ , which had made him dismiss her out of hand at the time. Now though, he wondered if she'd said that specifically to piss him off, so he wouldn't think any deeper about it. Then again, the obvious answer—that she considered him nothing more than mere property—made a hell of a lot more sense. So why was he sitting here? It wouldn't make any difference if he just stayed in the ship. Another thought hit him; why didn't he just go home? _No_ , he immediately thought. Rieve had nearly killed him, and he wasn't so easy to forgive. He wasn't about to walk away from everything at this point.

 

Trunks was rattled from his thoughts when he heard the door to the room slide open behind him. “Oh,” he heard and turned around just in time to see nurse Ran before she continued speaking. “You're still here?” she said with a curious look. Instead of responding to her, Trunks looked over at the large clock in the room, and realized he'd been up in the hospital room for six hours. That much time had passed already?

 

“Well I just came to check on her vitals,” Ran said as she moved to get to work, her eyes moving to the console near his comrade's bed. “There was a weird spike about ten minutes ago,” she said as she typed on the screen. “Did you notice anything?” Ran asked and looked up at him.

 

Trunks shook his head slowly. “No, nothing,” he answered.

 

Ran shrugged. “Well, she's fine, even the spike in her heartbeat was within normal levels. It's just strange, that's all,” she said and went back to her work. She moved around the bed and checked several lines and monitors, to make sure it wasn't an equipment error.

 

Trunks watched her work, and a thought came to him. “Why was Dr. Rema so angry?” he asked, looking back up at the nurse. “He didn't... seem like that at all when I was last here,” Trunks said, unsure of his characterization of the doctor. The man he met today seemed to be miles apart from the one he met several weeks ago.

 

Ran looked up at Trunks, confusion written across her face for a brief moment before it faded into a sad, knowing smile. “He cares about her. He'd never admit it, but,” she said, trailing off before moving back over to the console next to Armada's hospital bed. She clicked a few buttons on the screen before looking back up at Trunks. “She's not in here much for herself, but when she is, it's bad,” Ran continued. “But this was way worse than any other time,” Ran said and paused for a moment.

 

“Dr. Rema is a medical genius. He basically built this hospital up to what it is today. He's treated a lot of people like you and her,” Ran drawled out that last sentence, letting him know that she knew exactly what he and his comrade were. “And he's really good at it. Neither he nor I have ever seen anything that bad. If she does pull through this back to one hundred percent,” Ran glanced at her ward, “then it really won't be anything short of a miracle.”

 

“As to why he cares so much, or how they came to know each other, I don't know,” the nurse said flatly, her gaze going back over to Trunks. “But the rumor is that she's the one who saved his brother's life,” the nurse finished. Neither person said anything, and Ran went back to her work. “Everything looks good,” she started after a moment, “and someone else will be in to check on her at about forty-two hundred.” With that, Ran nodded to Trunks and quickly left.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks flung open the sliding glass door leading from the backyard into the kitchen and yelled to his mother. “Mom, I finished moving all of the old concrete rubble out of the way of the south building, but what did you want me to do with it?” he called out and let out a heavy breath.

 

“Close the door behind you, you're letting all the cold air out,” Bulma called back as she walked into the kitchen carrying an empty cardboard box. Trunks looked surprised briefly before he turned around and realized he had indeed left the door open. He moved to push it closed as Bulma set her empty box on the kitchen counter.

 

Trunks wiped at his forehead before he moved over to the kitchen cabinets to retrieve a glass and fill it with water at the sink. It was a disgustingly hot summer day, and although he was fast he still only had two hands, and could only move so much rubble at any given point. As a result, he was dripping in sweat and had long abandoned his shirt outside. All it had done was get drenched and cling to his back uncomfortably. It was laying somewhere in the yard near where he'd been working; he would go back to pick it up later.

 

Bulma was pulling several plates out of one of the cabinets above the counter next to Trunks and placing them in the cardbox box she'd carried in. “I'd like you to move it over behind the north building since that's going to be demolished anyway,” Bulma said as she kept pulling items out of the cabinets and packing them into the box. “A lot of that concrete can be ground up and reused,” she added, turning to look at her son. “Since you're done with that, go upstairs and get cleaned up, you stink,” she added with a smirk and a laugh.

 

Her son finished gulping down his glass of water and set it next to the sink. “Shut up mom,” he said with a laugh before walking away and heading for the hallway in the living room. As soon as he reached the hallway, he bumped into something and mentally berated himself for not paying attention. He should have sensed Mia was headed his way.

 

“Oh!” Mia called out after she bumped into Trunks. Luckily she was carrying a box of clothing and holding it in front of her, so she didn't run into him directly. Her grip slipped on the box, and she had to stoop for a second to readjust and avoid dropping it. Once she recovered and stood up, she looked up at Trunks from under her overgrown black bangs. She almost had to do a double-take. She'd last seen him a week ago, but _clearly_ he'd been gone longer than that. Neither he nor Bulma said that Trunks was going to travel back in time, but she saw him get in that machine and watched it disappear a week ago.

 

Mia had no idea when he came back, but she was wholly unprepared for this. He was significantly taller, his shoulders were a little wider, his face was a little thinner, like he finally lost the last traces of adolescence. She knew that Trunks was a good looking kid, but she'd never seen anything different in him until now. Standing in front of her covered in dirt and sweat, without a shirt so she could stare at how cut he was... Mia hadn't felt this awkward in _years_.

 

“E-excuse me,” she said and her eyes dropped to the floor. She could feel her face growing hot, and could only pray she wasn't blushing. She walked around Trunks and headed through the kitchen toward the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. She struggled with opening the door briefly, but it was so quick that nobody moved to assist her. In a quiet moment she was gone.

 

Trunks had turned to watch her leave, and heard his mother snicker under her breath. “What?” he shot out as his gaze turned to her, eyes instinctively narrowing. He knew that tone of hers.

 

Bulma started full-on laughing as her gaze fell then came back up to meet her son's eyes. She smiled at him and shook her head, turning her attention back to her task of packing away some of the glassware along with the plates and bowls she'd already set in the box. With the last few glasses packed away, she folded the box closed and moved toward the backdoor.

 

“Did you guys need help moving her stuff over there?” Trunks asked. Mia and Terry were finally moving out of the main house into the old employee dorms in the south building. Bulma had mentioned something to Mia about wanting her to have her own space, and Mia agreed. It seemed appropriate after nearly four years of them living in the same house as Trunks and Bulma, even if they were significantly separated by space within that house.

 

“No, we've got it handled,” Bulma said and smiled at her son before shaking her head and turning away. Once she was outside she laughed to herself again as she walked across the open lawn in the midday heat. She just saw Mia stare at her son like he was a piece of meat. Part of her wondered if she was a bad mother because she wasn't insulted by the whole thing. Actually, she thought it was rather funny, especially how oblivious he was to it.

 

 

-+-

 

 

_Armada opened her eyes and found it difficult to breathe. She stared forward into the darkness, ignoring the crack in her helmet's visor nearly dividing her face in half. She let out strained breaths, though she didn't feel particularly weak... just nervous. She could sense who was there in the darkness in front of her; he was slowly walking toward her. The damage to her helmet had deactivated her HUD, but she didn't need it to know it was him. She knew that terrifying power, no matter how he tried to mask it._

 

_She slowly clenched her fists as he came closer, and she could see his frame in the dark. No matter how slowly he slogged his way toward her, it was never fast enough. She wanted this to be over; she knew what was about to happen. And why was he trying to play tricks on her, pretending to hide his power? Armada let out a shaky breath, the water from her lungs leaving a temporary mist on the inside of her visor. She would know Orlen Valencia's energy no matter how he attempted to manipulate it._

 

_When he finally stepped forward into her field of vision, she squinted in surprise. It was his armor all right, but it wasn't him wearing it. It was a much younger man, with long violet hair and piercing blue eyes._

 

Armada opened her eyes and found herself staring at a white ceiling. It took a few seconds to adjust to the light in the room, and the mask over her nose and mouth fogged up when she let out a few hurried deep breaths. She swallowed thickly, and when she sensed Trunks in the room she closed her eyes in a long, slow blink. She turned her head to her left and saw him sitting in a chair, asleep. He had his arms crossed, leaned on a nearby table with his head resting on his forearms.

 

She turned away from him, and took in her surroundings the best she could with what little movement she could muster. It didn't take her long to realize where she was. How that had happened was what confused her. She stared at the ceiling and tried to recall what she could last remember. They were in Virda City, they went after Mikhail, he fired his weapon and hit Trunks. _Ah_ , she thought bitterly, now she remembered. She remembered trying to wrest the weapon from Mikhail's hands, but not what happened directly after. She only recalled the feeling of falling. Given that, and her current location, things went bad. But they were in Virda, how the hell did they get back to Bmyhad? Was Mikhail dead?

 

Letting her head fall back, Armada closed her eyes. She ached all over and felt the artificial numbness of heavy medication. She knew the pain would be far worse without it but she hated that numbing feeling, feeling like she'd lost control of her senses. Regardless, she needed more rest, and the idiot that brought her here probably wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. No, there was no need for her to rush. She closed her eyes; if nothing else the drugs were good for sleep.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“This is bullshit! How the hell does he _do_ that?!”

 

Trunks laughed even harder as the other two young men in the room furiously smashed buttons on their game controllers. He was laughing so hard that tears were forming in the corners of his eyes and he could barely look over at Neis and Terry as they battled it out. Neis still had his teeth gritted, growling and making other random frustrated sounds while Terry remained mostly quiet, biting his lower lip like he usually did when he was focused intensely on something. Another ten seconds or so passed before the game's announcer declared “ _Winner!_ ” and Neis stomped his feet in frustration, dropping his controller to the floor.

 

Neis grabbed his short brown hair with both hands and stared in disbelief at the screen detailing his loss. “I played this all the time in the arcade when I was a teenager! I used to kick everyone's ass!” Neis nearly shouted, turning to his right to look at his best friend and the eight-year-old who just mopped the floor with him in his favorite fighting game.

 

“Hahah,” Terry giggled, “maybe you've just lost your touch.” He smiled broadly, unable to contain his joy at winning, and lightly kicked his feet against the bottom of the couch. He then reached over with his left hand and patted Neis on the side of his right arm. “It's okay though, if you practice you can get better,” he said reassuringly.

 

Neis sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I can't believe a kid twenty years younger than me is showing me pity.”

 

“Nineteen,” Terry quickly corrected.

 

“Whatever,” Neis growled like a petulant child, his mouth forming a pout as he looked away from the child.

 

Trunks wiped the tears from his eyes while he still tried to catch his breath. “Are you guys done now, because I don't think I can take much more,” he said with a few low laughs at the end. He was certain he'd pulled a muscle in his abdomen from laughing hysterically.

 

“Some 'best friend' you are,” Neis grumbled as he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Anyway,” Trunks sat up and let out a deep breath, “I just heard mom and Mia in the kitchen, so we should head downstairs.” He rested his hands on his knees a moment before rising from the reclining chair he sat in to the side of the couch where Terry and Neis sat during their fighting game duel.

 

“I didn't hear anything,” Terry said curiously as he looked up at Trunks and watched him walk past the couch toward the door.

 

“Yeah, we normal people wouldn't,” Neis said with a smile and set his right hand on Terry's left shoulder. “Come on, your mom will want to take you home,” he added and stood up, moving to shut off the television and gaming console.

 

“Okay,” Terry sighed dejectedly before hopping down from the sofa.

 

By the time Trunks made it downstairs and into the kitchen, Bulma and Mia were both busy putting away groceries. “I heard that a few clothing stores have reopened in the Short North,” Mia said while setting a few boxes on a cabinet shelf. She turned back toward Bulma, “I'd love to go sometime, you wanna go with me?”

 

“I'd love to,” Bulma replied without missing a beat, her face buried in the refrigerator as she unloaded the armful of items she carried.

 

“Mom!” Terry called out as he ran into the kitchen and straight to Mia.

 

“Hey sweetie,” Mia smiled wide and bent down to hug her son. After a quick hug, Terry backed up and looked up at her.

 

“Neis was saying bad words in front of me again,” he reported with a slight nod and wide eyes to emphasize his words. Mia sighed and looked over to Neis, shooting him a disapproving look with her eyes. Terry simultaneously looked over and smirked.

 

“Oh come on,” the man in question replied as he walked up and sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter. Neis looked at Mia as he set his arms down on the countertop, “He's heard worse in movies,” he said and shrugged his shoulders.

 

Mia almost looked horrified for a moment. “He's eight,” she started with incredulity in her voice. “What have you been letting him watch?” she asked irritably.

 

Trunks and Neis both looked at each other, but Neis was the first to reply. “Hey they're your movies,” he said and threw up his hands toward his friend.

 

“You said she said it was all right!” Trunks said in his defense, his voice rising with a slight sense of panic.

 

“Oh calm down,” Bulma said with a tone that said everyone was overreacting. “It's not that he's hearing the words that matters, it's that he doesn't repeat them,” she said with a smile while working to defuse the situation.

 

“Yeah grandma Bulma tells me not to repeat stuff all the time, and I never do,” Terry said excitedly to his mother.

 

Bulma smiled darkly at Terry when the other three adults in the room eyed her warily. “Terry don't help,” she said quickly.

 

“Sorry grams,” he said solemnly.

 

“Anyway,” Mia drawled out the word to cut into the conversation, “we're going home,” she finished while picking up a bag of groceries from the counter.

 

“But mom,” Terry whined. He wasn't ready to stop playing with Neis and Trunks.

 

Mia smiled down at her son. “Don't you want to spend some time with your mommy?”

 

Terry thought for a moment before replying, “Do I have to answer that?”

 

Trunks and Neis couldn't help themselves, they both started laughing, and even Bulma chuckled a little. Mia tried to look hurt but after a few seconds she started to laugh a little too. Terry didn't catch on, as he thought his mother was hurt so he quickly apologized. “I'm sorry mommy I love you,” he blurted out, his eyes full of concern.

 

“I know sweetie I love you too,” Mia replied with a chuckle. Her son was just too adorable, she couldn't stand it sometimes. “Okay say goodbye, we're going home now,” she instructed him jovially.

 

The eight-year-old turned to everyone as he said their names, “Bye Trunks, bye Neis, bye grams,” he said quickly. Bulma smiled broadly at him when he looked at her.

 

“See you later everyone,” Mia said with a quick smile before she took Terry's hand in hers and walked to the back door in the kitchen. Within moments they were gone and making their way across the Capsule Corporation lawn to their 'home' on the other end of the complex in the south building.

 

Trunks was still watching them walk away when he heard Neis clear his throat. He glanced over at his friend who nodded toward his mother with his lips pursed. Trunks looked over at Bulma who glowered at the two. “What?” he said more defensively than he'd intended.

 

“You two are the closest thing to a father figure that Terry has,” she said seriously. “And if you're a bad influence on him I will beat your asses,” she added, pointing at the two of them.

 

“A woman in her forties is going to kick my ass? I doubt it,” Neis replied, his voice laced with disbelief at her words.

 

“Dude, she invented a time machine; _shut up_ ,” Trunks said under his breath without turning his head to look at his best friend.

 

“Oooh, good point,” Neis said lowly, looking at Trunks from the corner of his eyes. “Sorry Mrs B,” he said quickly turning his gaze back toward the Briefs matriarch.

 

“You think I'm in my forties so all is forgiven,” Bulma said with a smile. “So Neis,” she started while pulling a skillet out of a nearby cabinet, “I heard that you made Mia the most amazing kielbasa and cabbage a few days ago.” She smirked devilishly at Neis, who had already looked away and started turning red. “Would you care to show me how you did it?” she asked, her voice full of mirth.

 

The twenty-seven year old was still dodging Bulma's gaze while he scratched at the side of his head with his left hand, his face growing redder by the second. “Uh, yeah, sure, no problem,” he stumbled through his sentence.

 

While he was looking at the ground trying to hide his embarrassment, Bulma turned her gaze to her son and smirked while raising her eyebrows. Trunks shook his head and walked away, it was just torture to watch his mother tease Neis like this. It was obvious to everyone that Neis had a crush on Mia, although Trunks had no idea if Mia knew. If she did, she was excellent at faking that she didn't. Regardless, he wasn't going to watch his mother embarrass Neis—Trunks could not stand the second-hand embarrassment he felt for his best friend. So he headed out, looking forward to taking a leisurely flight in the summer sun.

 

 

-+-

 

 

This time when Armada opened her eyes, Trunks must have sensed that she was feigning sleep because he was standing to her right, his back leaned against the wall near the door to her hospital room, staring at her. She turned her eyes away from him for a moment and sighed heavily, before looking back at him. “What?” she said tersely, her voice coming out far weaker than she intended or cared for.

 

“Care to elaborate?” Trunks asked patiently, though she could sense that he was irritated by the way his energy buzzed in the room, despite how he kept it suppressed.

 

“What are you doing here?” she clarified, still infuriated at his presence. She knew it was more because she hated feeling so weak and he was so _stupidly_ powerful, but she tried to tell herself it was because he was just stupid.

 

Trunks glanced down at the floor for a moment. “Seeing as how I brought you here,” he began lowly and looked back up into her eyes, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His voice was even and low, as if he was reciting lines from memory.

 

“You're an idiot,” Armada spat as she moved to sit up, pushing herself up with her hands. She fiddled with the bed's controls briefly to get the back to rise and help her sit up, and Trunks merely watched her as she worked. He knew it would be stupid to get involved.

 

“And why is that?” he finally asked when she'd managed to get the bed adjusted.

 

Armada took a moment to pull the oxygen mask from her face and toss it aside before glaring at him angrily and shouting, “Because you should have run! Because you should have left me there to die and you should have run!” She paused a moment, “Because you can't owe a debt to a dead person,” she added, the volume of her voice dropping.

 

“Well unfortunately for you that's not who I am,” Trunks snapped back angrily, his volume increasing in response to her.

 

She didn't break her gaze from his but stayed silent for a moment. “There's something you need to know,” she said lowly. Trunks wasn't expecting that, and curiosity crept into his features. She turned away and her eyes seemed to look through everything. “Do you remember during the trip to Virda when you asked me if everything was okay?”

 

Trunks's mind quickly returned to that moment. _He was sitting in the lounge reading information on his phone while a movie played on the monitor in the background. His concentration was broken when he felt Armada's ki spike in the bridge and heard the noise of something slamming against something else. “You okay?” he called out, but heard nothing in response. He got up from where he sat and walked to the entrance to the bridge, to see her standing with her back to him while she muttered 'damnit' under her breath._

 

“ _Hey, is everything okay?” he asked again, moderately concerned._

 

“ _Fine,” she answered flatly before walking out of the bridge down the hall toward the barracks. He watched her leave but said nothing else. He knew it wasn't 'fine' but had no idea what it was about to bother her about it._

 

“Yeah, I remember,” Trunks replied with a guarded gaze as he recalled what had happened.

 

Armada finally turned her head so she could look him in the eyes. “I'd received a message from my broker, Mace,” she said, recalling the contents of the message. _She was checking diagnostics and their flight path when an incoming encrypted message arrived. She didn't recognize the encryption key, so after scanning the file for any abnormalities and it cleared, she played it._ “Hey,” _the voice message began and while it sounded strained, she knew the voice belonged to her broker, Mace._ “Rieve found my place... before they trashed everything they stole my data. I-I gave them the encryption keys,” _the voice stuttered and Armada knew that he hadn't given up access to his data by choice. She clenched her fists as she knew where this was going._ “They got the encryption key to your comms, I'm sorry. They let me live,” _the voice shuddered and paused for a moment. Armada instinctively knew what they'd done to him—she would have done the same. Clearly they wanted her to know what they had done otherwise they would have killed him._ “I'm done, you'll never hear from me again.” _The message was static for a few seconds before it ended._

 

_Armada's clenched right fist slammed into the console in front of her in frustration before she rose from her seat and cursed her luck._

 

“Rieve attacked Mace and stole all the data he had, including the encryption key necessary to contact me. They fed the information to Venice. It's the reason they were able to force the ship's comms open so quickly,” she summarized for Trunks. Her fists clenched into the sheets covering her and she looked down at them, anger flashing over her face. “This whole job was a setup and they knew we'd have no choice but to take it.”

 

Trunks understood what she was really saying. Rieve had tried to poison her and inadvertently nearly killed him. They sent their assassin to kill her. They setup the pair of them to face Mikhail, far more powerful and with a weapon more powerful than they could have known. He knew Rieve was bad news, from what little information was out in the public network about them. He didn't know _why_ they were after Armada, but it wasn't surprising. He knew so little about her, and he was growing very tired of remaining in the dark. “So we need to do something about Rieve,” Trunks surmised.

 

“ _No!_ ” Armada screamed, rage flashing across her face. “This is not your fight,” she ground out, staring at him for a few seconds before continuing. “Go home. This doesn't concern you.”

 

Now Trunks was officially getting pissed off. “Clearly you don't know who I am,” he started, his voice loud and angry. “I'm not so merciful as to just walk away when someone nearly kills me, and I don't give a damn if they were after you and not me. Consider it a real fuck-up of collateral damage on Rieve's part, but now I'm pissed, and I am not about to walk away,” he finished, staring Armada down.

 

Armada scoffed, “What do you think you're going to do? Fight them?” she asked incredulously.

 

“I have no problem taking the fight directly to these assholes,” Trunks replied, his eyes narrowing.

 

“You don't understand,” Armada said and shook her head. “We can't fight them,” she began but Trunks cut her off.  


“Do you really not understand what I'm capable of?” he asked with a tone of arrogance.

 

Her eyes dropped from his gaze and her fists clenched. Her ki flickered oddly, and it took a moment for Trunks to realize it was from _fear_. She was afraid of him. His face softened slightly, and he felt a wave of guilt come over him. He never wanted her to fear him, simply respect him. _No_ , he thought briefly and internally scolded himself. Who cared if she feared him? He tried to rationalize it away but it still bothered him.

 

“I know,” she finally responded and Trunks was brought out of his thoughts. “What I was saying was, we can't fight Rieve like we are _now_ ,” Armada emphasized the last word of her sentence. “Rieve isn't just a crime syndicate, it's an army. They have more assassins like Corvus, more powerful ones; they have a fleet, they have reach across the galaxy from LOKI to the Republic and back,” she paused. “A fight with Rieve isn't a fight, it's a _war_. And a war with Rieve only ends one of two ways. Either they're obliterated,” she paused a moment, “or we are. You have to understand what you're asking for.”

 

Trunks thought for a moment before a question came to him. “Do you want to get these bastards? For everything that they've done?” he asked.

 

“More than you know,” Armada replied quickly.

 

“Then it's settled,” Trunks answered just as swiftly. “We're going to wipe them out.”

 

Armada sighed. “Okay. A war with Rieve takes resources. Upgrades to the ship, intel on their locations and strength, and above all—money,” she explained. “Which we are in short supply of. We're going to have to take a lot of jobs in a short period of time to earn the kind of capital that we need to wage a war. You understand?”

 

“Yeah,” Trunks nodded as he replied. The room fell silent for a few moments as Trunks thought through what they were talking about. Should he just reveal his full strength to her? Would it be enough against Rieve? Corvus—if that was the name of the enforcer he'd killed—was far more powerful than Trunks previously thought anyone else in the universe to be. He was still not strong enough to defeat Trunks, but if Corvus wasn't standing at the top, who was? He needed to train, but Trunks had not trained seriously in the last two years; how was he going to do it?

 

“So when did Dr. Rema say I could leave?”

 

Trunks was brought out of his thoughts by his comrade's question. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself hesitating when he remembered the details of everything Ran had told him. “Three more days,” he finally found enough voice to say aloud. “They had to uh,” he paused a split-second to avert his gaze from hers, “flash clone five of your organs. Said it was pretty bad,” his voice trailed off.

 

She seemed to sit and absorb the information for a moment. “You should get back to the ship,” Armada said in her normal, somewhat-demanding tone. “One of us needs to keep a close eye on things and obviously I can't go anywhere.”

 

“Sure,” Trunks said and left without another word. As he walked through the halls headed for the exit, he wondered how his mother was doing. How had things fallen apart so badly from a mere trip to buy groceries and supplies on Bmyhad? Maybe Armada was right, and he was an idiot for not running back home when he had the chance. His mother certainly wouldn't approve of this plan for vengeance, but he didn't particularly care. He was no Son Goku; he couldn't forgive someone who tried to kill him.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks leaned forward and spit out another two watermelon seeds before chewing and swallowing the piece of fruit he'd bitten off. It was hard to see where they landed in the dark. Despite the full moon and clear sky lighting up the Capsule Corporation grounds, it was easy for two black seeds to get lost in the grass beneath his feet.

 

Mia wiped at her mouth with the back of her right hand and threw the rind of her piece of watermelon onto the ground. She sighed briefly before speaking, “It's so nice out tonight. The weather's perfect,” she said and turned to her right where Trunks sat beside her on a concrete bench.

 

“Hey,” Trunks swallowed before he continued, “don't throw that on the ground,” he said referencing the rind she threw down.

 

Mia rolled her eyes, “Oh whatever, it's recycling. Nature going back to nature, it's just like a compost heap,” she explained, gesticulating with her arms while talking.

 

“My back yard is not a compost heap,” Trunks said flatly.

 

“ _Your_ back yard?” Mia taunted. “Last I checked you still lived with your _mom_ ,” she teased. He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off at the pass. “Besides, if you think your yard isn't a compost heap then clearly you haven't been behind the south building lately,” she said while a sly smile spread across her face.

 

“What?” Trunks asked in confusion.

 

“Just kidding!” Mia laughed and smiled broadly. “Maybe,” she added quickly with a smirk.

 

Trunks gave her a sideways glance for a moment before taking another bite of watermelon. “Speaking of nice weather, you should've let Terry stay up late,” he said with a mouthful of fruit. He swallowed thickly before adding, “Summer break doesn't last forever, you need to let him live a little.”

 

“He's eight!” Mia said in exasperation. “I let him stay up late on the weekends,” she said defensively. “Besides, if he stays up late all summer it'll be really hard for him to go back to school when break's over.” Mia looked up at the stars for a minute and stayed silent while Trunks continued to eat.

 

“Speaking of school,” Mia said slowly, mimicking Trunks's words from moments earlier, turning slowly to her right to face him, “Lowell told me they're reopening West City University this fall.” She looked at him expectantly for a moment while Trunks eyed her from the corner of his eyes. “They're not going to charge tuition because _zeni_ are still worthless,” she rolled her eyes and laughed darkly, “and you know Lowell's not in it for the money anyway.”

 

“You gonna go?” Trunks asked, wary of where this conversation was headed.

 

“Yeah,” she said with a smile, more to herself than anyone else. “I wanna be a nurse, and you've gotta go to school for that, right?” She leaned back and set her hands on the bench, stretching her legs out in front of her. “It's a brand new world with the androids gone. We need people to replace everyone we've lost, career-wise,” she added. “I want to help people and blood doesn't freak me out,” Mia laughed, “so it seemed like the perfect fit. They won't have the med school up and running yet but I figure I can start with some science classes and get the fundamentals out of the way first. Lowell said that was a good plan and he would know, he used to teach there before the university was destroyed,” she added while kicking at the grass.

 

Mia looked at Trunks while biting her bottom lip for a few minutes before speaking again. “So... are you gonna go?”

 

Trunks sighed and looked away from Mia. Everyone had been pestering him about this lately and it was getting old, _fast_. “I don't know,” he said while shaking his head. He was getting very annoyed with this from everyone about going to school or what to do next or his future, however they phrased it, it was all the same thing.

 

“Lowell said you could just start by taking like, one or two classes in something that interests you, to see if you're really interested in that for a career, you don't have to know right away what you want to do,” Mia started to spout off quickly. She tended to ramble when she was nervous.

 

“Why are you talking about me with Lowell?” Trunks finally asked, the irritation evident to Mia in his voice. Her eyes widened and he continued, “Why are you talking about _my future_ with Lowell?” Trunks stared at Mia with a scowl.

 

Mia was almost at a loss for words at his anger. “I, I'm sorry,” she stuttered, suddenly finding the dark grass under her feet easier to look at than the young man she was sitting next to. “I,” she started but lost her voice. She turned her gaze back to Trunks and started again, “Look, what you did was amazing—you saved us all. Nobody can thank you enough for that,” she said with earnest admiration. “But... there aren't any androids left to fight, you know? What are you going to do with the rest of your life?” Trunks's scowl had softened, but Mia must not have noticed because she assumed he was still angry. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly and tucked her long black hair behind right ear, a nervous habit of hers. “I didn't mean to upset you, I'm just,” she paused, searching for the right word before she settled on “concerned.”

 

After that apology, Trunks felt like an asshole. “I know Mia, I'm sorry,” he replied, feeling like an idiot. “I just... I don't know what I want to do. And it's frustrating when everyone keeps pushing me to make a decision, like I haven't thought about it and if they bother me enough I'll magically figure it out,” he blurted out quickly. His mother had been getting on him about it since he killed Cell, Lowell had been talking about reopening West City University for the last two years, and even Neis was getting on his case about it. Despite how flaky his best friend appeared to be on the outside, Neis had mostly finished a degree in electrical engineering before his sister was killed and North City was wiped off the map. Everyone had a direction except for him, and it wasn't for lack of contemplation on Trunks's part. What exactly the future held for him had consumed his thoughts for some time, though it seemed that no one understood that. Maybe his mother did, but even so she still pushed him. Most of all he was frustrated with himself, and everyone else's additional pressure did not help the situation any.

 

“You gave us all a future, Trunks.”

 

Trunks turned his attention back to Mia who looked at him and smiled in earnest. “If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. I wouldn't,” Mia smiled as her voice cracked ever so slightly, “I wouldn't be here with my beautiful son if it weren't for you and your mother. So if you need more time to figure it out, take all the time you need,” she finished, and set her right hand on top of his left sitting on the bench in between them.

 

Mia used her left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and laughed nervously. “You're an amazing guy,” she said, her gaze directed over his shoulder. “So what if you're a late bloomer?” she looked into his eyes and smiled. “There's no rush. And I'm really, really sorry if I made you feel pressured,” she repeated her apology, and the sincerity was very clear to Trunks.

 

“It's okay, and thank you,” Trunks said sheepishly himself. He felt like such a dork sometimes. Then again, he did come from a line of dorks, just very famous and very rich dorks. “You're a great mom and you'll make a great nurse,” he said with a smile. He was honest in his words; he'd seen how Mia had raised a child from the age of sixteen. She was twenty-five now, and Terry was about to turn nine, a few months before Trunks's own birthday. Everyone was only getting older, and it reinforced the idea that he needed to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. It was hard; he'd spent so long just trying to survive, then trying to defeat the androids—it had consumed his every waking moment for many years—and it was hard to readjust. He thought he would have felt more “normal” by now, but what was normal for him, anyway?

 

He had turned away from Mia while lost in thought, but her hand was still resting over his on the bench in the few inches between them. He stared up at the stars; they were nice to look at on such a clear night. When he felt Mia shift next to him, Trunks turned to look at her. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something, but she must have thought better of it and her mouth fell closed. Mia then squeezed his hand lightly and Trunks looked down at their hands briefly when Mia slowly moved forward. He instinctively reacted and pulled away from her, sitting back and moving his head away from hers.

 

When Trunks looked into Mia's eyes, he knew what he'd done. “I'm such an idiot,” she said lowly, moving her hand away from his as tears welled in her eyes.

 

The realization smacked Trunks like an angry slap to the face. She was trying to _kiss him_ —had _tried_ to kiss him, when he pulled away from her. “Mia, I,” he started, but she just shook her head as she stood up, smiling broadly to cover up the sadness. She quickly turned and walked away, headed for her home in the south building.

 

He watched her walk away and felt unable to move. He didn't realize what she was doing when he'd backed away from her; it was just instinct as if she was going to bump into him. But the truth of it was, he didn't _want_ to kiss Mia. It made him feel terrible to let her down, because he cared about her—she was family. But it wouldn't be right to give her what she wanted if his heart wasn't in it, right? He ran his left hand through his hair and hung his head. There was nothing he could do to 'fix' this and it made him feel like he needed to vomit.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada stood and clasped the right forearm guard onto her arm, the last piece of her armor she had to put on. “Where's the other guard?” she asked to the man standing behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know that he was there.

 

“I don't know,” Dr. Rema answered honestly, “it wasn't on the corpse that your friend brought in.”

 

She turned around and stared at him pointedly. “Congratulations doctor, you've raised the dead,” she said mockingly.

 

“I goddamn did, even if you want to joke about it,” he shot back angrily. “I'm a genius and a miracle worker, especially considering you're standing here like you're fine eight days after surgery.” He paused briefly and readjusted his glasses. “You have five brand new, flash-cloned organs in your body. You need to be prepared for what that's going to do to you,” he cautioned.

 

“I know what the side affects are of a cloned organ, Rema,” Armada said flatly.

 

“Yeah but they're not merely multiplied five times over. More than one cloned organ transplant at a time multiplies the occurrence of debilitating memory hallucination _exponentially_ ,” he stressed. “The effect is intensified with flash cloned tissue as it hasn't had the proper time to truly grow. And don't play dumb with me, I know damn well what you do for a living. I'll always be grateful for what you've done for me—intentional or not,” he added with emphasis. “But I didn't do all that goddamn work for you to walk out there and die because you get caught up in a neural storm while you're in the middle of some deep shit. I need you to live for at least another two years so I can write a research paper on my work and win another award,” he finished, still glaring at her angrily.

 

“Glad to see you've got your priorities in order,” Armada laughed darkly. She moved to walk around the doctor to leave the hospital, but he shot out a hand to stop her.

 

She looked from the doctor's hand on her left arm up into his eyes. “Don't you ever come back here in that kind of condition again, you hear me?” Rema's anger was obvious but even Armada could see it was just there to mask his concern, and she hated it. He had no reason to care about her, considering the 'miracle' she'd done for him was merely chance; it was a job and nothing more.

 

She shrugged his grasp off and walked away without a word. She was too busy to deal with him; she had to prepare for war.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Bulma sighed and put down the spoon into her bowl of oatmeal, then proceeded to set her elbows on the kitchen table and set her chin her hands. “What's wrong?” she asked sadly, looking at her son sitting across from her.

 

Trunks looked up at her while trying to take a bite of his oatmeal and it slid off of the spoon and fell back into the bowl. “What?” he asked, blinking at her in confusion.

 

“Please don't play dumb with me son,” Bulma said sadly. “I know you. You've been moping for three days now. Something's eating you up but I just don't know what.”

 

“Mom, I'm fine,” Trunks said slowly as he stared into her eyes.

 

Bulma sighed again and shifted in her chair. “Trunks,” she said his name in that way that told him she meant business.

 

He sighed and his eyes darted away from hers. “I don't want to talk about it,” he finally admitted. He'd felt like absolute garbage since Mia tried to kiss him three nights ago. He didn't know what to do, or even if there was anything _for_ him to do. It was so frustrating, because there was no clear answer to him. He did not feel ready to discuss it with his mother. He was afraid she wouldn't understand.

 

“Okay,” Bulma let out a deep breath and smiled at her son sadly. “But if you do decide you need to talk about it, I'm here for you, you know that right?”

 

“Yeah,” Trunks said lowly and nodded before shoveling another bite of oatmeal into his mouth.

 

“Now,” Bulma clasped her hands together in front of herself and sat up straight, “if you feel like it, I have a list of things I need from Bmyhad, and I know it's been a while since you've been, so if you like you can go in my place. Get out of the house, say hi to Murtole, Devan and everyone else, just forget about whatever's eating at you for a little bit. Sound good?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

 

He thought for a moment after swallowing another spoonful of his breakfast. “Yeah,” he said and nodded to his mother, “I'd like to do that.” His problems wouldn't go away, but at least he could get away and stop obsessing over them for a few hours, if nothing else.

 

He would leave a few hours later, and it would be the last time he would see his mother.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading, if you have time please leave a review and let me know what you think. :]

 

Today's lyrical content provided by: “Underneath,” Adam Lambert


	12. Mission 07: Assassination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simple art theft turns into a fight for his life as Trunks and Armada break into a mansion in space.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

When the car finally parked and the driver cut the engine, the young short-red-haired man in the back seat let himself out. He hated being driven, he preferred to drive himself but it was a matter of image. As head of this organization, he had to play certain parts despite how much he despised them. After closing the car door behind himself, he adjusted the front of his blue blazer and strode quickly toward the elevator. The facade of this location was a derelict warehouse, and once inside he needed to take an elevator to the lower levels where the real action happened.

 

Moments later he stepped out of a rusted elevator and onto the polished floor of the fourth basement level. As he walked toward his destination, men around him nodded in respect or simply said “sir.” He hated the whole 'sir' business too but it was too ingrained in everyone, from even before he began his tenure as the head of the family. His blue eyes scanned everything with careful calculation as he walked, always on the lookout for anyone who seemed out of place. Law enforcement had given up trying to infiltrate their ranks years ago, but occasionally a wayward mercenary or bounty hunter thought they could outsmart his system and get 'inside.' It was laughable, really, and he enjoyed killing each and every one of those leeches personally. He smirked to himself as he reached his ultimate destination.

 

Pushing through two wide double-doors into the heart of their surveillance and network group, Ryan Rieve paused to look for the man who had called him to say he'd found something of interest. “ _Comonstoro_ ,” a man not much older than Ryan called out to him, catching his attention. He hated that too, when his subordinates used that outdated word for 'leader.' They should just refer to him as Rieve, since he had literally become the organization itself almost fifteen years ago. Rieve took a deep breath and headed over.

 

“Palmer,” Ryan said coolly when he was within proper speaking distance, “good to see you,” he tacked on at the last second. It wasn't really good to see him; he didn't _care_ about this man but he had to put on the right airs or things just wouldn't run smoothly. Ryan had learned _that_ lesson the most difficult way anyone could.

 

With short brown hair and eager eyes, Palmer nodded to his leader before speaking. “I don't want to waste your time, so take a look at this monitor,” he said and motioned to the large console and corresponding holographic monitor to his right. Ryan followed Palmer's lead and a smattering of data appeared on screen.

 

“Following local pings from Corvus's phone, we can see that he did land on Bmyhad in Temelt-Ran as scheduled,” Palmer started and brought up a map condensed to just the city with orange dots placed around it. “Looks like when he got there he checked into a hotel and stayed put for about a day,” the information specialist added and looked to Rieve's leader for approval or input.

 

“Sounds like him all right,” Ryan replied. “He can't sleep on shuttles so he probably decided to rest for a while before doing what I asked,” he added, thinking of how his best friend used to get green in the face when their ship would accelerate too quickly.

 

Palmer nodded and turned back to the screen. “This group here,” he said and a blue circle appeared around a handful of dots concentrated away from the hotel itself. The map zoomed in on the area and the tech continued, “contains the last coordinates we received from his phone before it went completely offline. What's even more interesting,” Palmer looked down and typed into a screen lower than the one they were looking at, “is that one of local agents' phones showed up at the same time as this last set of data from Corvus's device.” Several pale red dots appeared, each one nearly overlapping with the blue dots. Palmer turned to look at Rieve who was still staring at the map, “The local cell in Ute was wiped out only a day before Corvus arrived.”

 

“It was the mercenary,” Ryan said flatly while still studying the map. He was trying to piece together what happened, how their fight had gone. It still wasn't clear to him, especially since it had been weeks since Corvus was dispatched and he should have returned by now.

 

“With the typhoon, at the time a lot of local surveillance equipment was down,” Palmer turned back to the console and began typing again. “We couldn't find anything useful on the ground,” he added. Ryan turned to him and was about to ask what the hell he was doing here if Palmer was so worthless, when the tech interrupted him before the leader of Rieve could start. “But, we finally broke into the back end of some older Bmyhadian military satellites. Sifting through the images, we only found one where the cloud cover was thin enough that we could effectively enhance it.” A new image appeared on the screen, a top-down view of a skyscraper in downtown Temelt-Ran.

 

Ryan took a step closer, his eyebrows coming together in concentration while his blue eyes studied the image intensely. “That's Corvus,” he said, pointing to a faint image of a man standing or floating—it was hard to tell—near the edge of the building.

 

“Yes,” Palmer affirmed. “Through some energy signature scan data we retrieved from the region, we can definitively say _that_ is Corvus,” he added and a green hexagon appeared around the grainy image of the Rieve enforcer. “The body closest to Corvus,” Palmer said as a blue hexagon appeared on screen around what looked like a body laying down on the roof, “while we can't confirm with a hundred percent certainty, we believe is the mercenary.”

 

Ryan studied the image of his enemy for a brief moment before saying “She's injured.” There was a hint of surprise in his voice.

 

“We thought so too,” Palmer nodded to himself since Rieve wasn't looking at him. “The real question is,” he clicked another few buttons and a purple hexagon appeared on the image, highlighting another grainy figure that also appeared to be standing, this time on the far side of the mercenary across from Corvus. “Who is that?” Palmer finished.

 

“What do you have on him?” Ryan turned to Palmer, his tone sour.

 

“Not much of anything,” Palmer replied. “We were only able to find partial energy signature streams before every sensor within three kilometers went offline.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Rieve spat. He'd never heard of such a thing. Usually the only way to cause equipment like that to go offline was a bomb or specialized electromagnetic pulse targeted to throw off the calibration of the equipment.

 

“We also lost all signal on Corvus and his phone at the same time,” Palmer added with a downtrodden sigh.

 

Turning his attention back to the image, Ryan would have stared a hole in it if he didn't want to replace the equipment in the room. Whoever this person was who had interfered, they would pay. Ryan was no idiot, he knew by now that Corvus was dead—or close enough to it that he may as well be dead. This man, woman, beast, whatever it was—had assisted the mercenary. Now they would both suffer immeasurably. “The mercenary has an ally?” he found himself asking under his breath.

 

Having heard him, Palmer replied. “Maybe. She's never had one in the eight years she's been operating, at least none that we could find,” he said.

 

Ryan turned to look at Palmer again. “Find them now, this person and the mercenary. But make sure the men know not to kill them,” he nearly snarled, “because I want the pleasure of killing them myself.”

 

“Yes sir,” Palmer nodded and turned to leave; he had plenty of work to do trying to track down these two targets for his boss.

 

Rieve turned his gaze back to the blurry satellite photo. The mercenary could never have killed Corvus; even at their highest estimate of her strength she was no match for him. If someone killed or otherwise incapacitated Corvus, it was likely this interloper they knew nothing about. Corvus had been Ryan's right-hand man since the beginning of his reign in Rieve. He would never forgive the person that killed his best friend. Not that he really forgave anyone, ever. In his line of work it was a sign of weakness. In Ryan's case though, he never felt the urge to forgive.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

Mission 07: Assassination

 

 

-+-

 

 

When Trunks opened the door to the ship and walked in, he headed straight for his room to drop off his bag. Armada's ki wasn't around so he knew she was gone, though that wasn't surprising. She didn't have a job lined up when he left for his job, but there was no reason she couldn't take one after he left. Once inside his room, Trunks walked over to the bed he used and set his bag down. He'd been gone for four days on guard duty for a politician in Temelt-Ran, on the other side of the continent from Ute. It was a boring job, but it paid well—he had sixty-thousand betas to show for it upon returning.

 

He and Armada had returned to Ute almost six weeks ago. Once she was well enough to leave the hospital, they sat and devised a plan. At a minimum, Armada determined they would need four million betas for upgrades to the ship, which mostly consisted of defenses—physical _and_ virtual. It didn't surprise Trunks to learn that electronic defenses were just as critical as physical. It didn't matter if the ship could withstand a missile attack without taking a scratch if the ship's OS could be hacked in a matter of seconds.

 

Regardless of their intended uses for the money, the fact remained that they needed to earn in a hurry. So it was decided they would take as many small jobs as they could. Work that still paid well, but was relatively low-risk. Now was the time to lay low, as their resources were sparse and they needed to build up their “war chest,” as Armada had called it. Trunks wasn't sure what their exact earnings currently were, but he did know they'd already passed the one million mark. He thought that Armada might have gone out to start securing the parts needed for the ship. He hoped she was going to return soon, as he didn't have another job lined up yet and she had been adamant that she be the one to find and accept work for the two of them.

 

The next few hours Trunks kept himself busy. He showered; washed and dried every stitch of clothing he owned, which admittedly wasn't much; caught up on Bmyhadian and Federation news; and cooked a modest dinner. It was when he was eating and watching some kind of drama he didn't quite understand on the network that Armada returned. Like him, she took a moment to head to her room before walking into the lounge.

 

“I made dinner if you're hungry,” Trunks said between bites, glancing over at her briefly from where he sat at the table in the lounge. She nodded to him and disappeared into the galley. A minute later, she walked back into the lounge and sat down at the table, around the corner from her comrade.

 

“Where were you?” Trunks asked once she had seated herself, curious if she was out buying parts like he thought.

 

“Courier job,” she said quickly before taking a long sip from her water bottle. “Had to hand deliver a package to Flora; it's a city in the north,” she explained. “Forty-two-five for a total of six hours of work,” she looked down at her plate and took a large bite of the pasta-like mixture her comrade had created.

 

“Better than me,” Trunks laughed ruefully. “Sixty grand for four days,” he added.

 

“How'd it go?” Armada asked after swallowing.

 

“Good,” Trunks replied quickly. “Nothing happened; it was pretty boring actually,” he added with a slight smile.

 

“Boring is what we want right now,” his comrade replied flatly, her eyes still trained on her plate. She didn't say anything else and kept eating.

 

Trunks was mostly done with his meal when she had arrived, but he stayed seated despite having a clear plate. After a few minutes of relative silence, he finally voiced the question that had been bugging him for a while. “What exactly did you do to piss off Rieve so badly?” he asked, his eyes moving to look at hers. She didn't seem to be in bad mood, so now seemed like an opportune time to ask.

 

Armada looked up at Trunks as she chewed, then took a moment to swallow before answering. “I destroyed a piece of real estate that they _really_ liked,” she said, her face betraying no underlying emotion associated with her statement.

 

“Well their reaction is kind of extreme then, isn't it?” Trunks asked curiously. He had a feeling he wasn't getting the whole story.

 

“It was worth a lot of money,” Armada said flatly.

 

“Okay that sounds a little more plausible,” Trunks laughed more to himself than her. He paused a moment before his next thought came to mind. “How'd you end up on Bmyhad?” he asked. Armada's eyes went up from her meal to meet his, and he clarified awkwardly with “It doesn't seem like you're from here.”

 

She stopped chewing and glared at him. “Bmyhadians aren't physiologically capable of manipulating life energy,” she said. Her voice came out garbled as she spoke with a mouth full of food. Clearly she wasn't concerned with proper etiquette while eating.

 

Trunks laughed, “Are you an expert biologist now?” He wondered what point she was trying to make with that statement. She could have just said 'no.'

 

In response, Armada sighed and set her fork down. “The old Republic, the planets and nations that were part of its foundation,” she began, “formed the GaReXa Republic some sixteen-thousand-and-something years ago. Space flight was going on long before that, let's just guess and say twenty-thousand years ago, okay?” She wasn't looking for an answer to her words, just that Trunks was paying attention—and he was. “Even so, twenty-thousand years isn't long enough for the level of evolution to take place that's evident today across the universe. Different planets, different people were already evolved from basic life forms long before that.”

 

She picked up her fork and started to collect another bite on her plate. “Some of those people were lucky, and evolved with the ability to manipulate energy—latent or not,” she continued. “Bmyhadians are one of the unlucky groups in the crapshoot of life,” Armada finished her sentence by taking another bite of her dinner.

 

Trunks took a moment to think over what she'd just said. She might be on to something, considering that humans weren't born with the innate ability to manipulate ki. They could, given time and intense training learn to do so. But clearly it wasn't an everyday thing, just based on what his mother and Gohan told him. “So,” he started, “that whole thing was your way of saying you're not from here?”

 

“It's my way of saying it should be obvious,” she shot back with an angry glare.

 

The next thing to ask was clear to Trunks. “Well then, where are you from?” Why was she being so cryptic, anyway?

 

Armada had a forkful of food in front of her open mouth when Trunks spoke, and she stopped herself. Did he really think she was that stupid? That she didn't see what he was trying to do? An idea suddenly struck her, and in the moment she decided to go with it. Again, she set her fork down and spoke. “I haven't asked you shit about who you are and where you're from because when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter,” she began, keeping her anger out of her tone. “But if you're really curious,” she lowered her head slightly, pausing to hopefully catch his interest and string him along, “then I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Only if you do the same,” she quickly added. “You ask a question, I answer; I ask a question, you answer,” Armada explained. “Deal?”

 

Trunks thought for a moment, but came to a decision quickly. “Deal,” he said flatly.

 

“Since you've already asked several questions,” Armada interjected before he had a chance to say anything else, “it's my turn.” She considered how to phrase the question she wanted to ask him. There was a chance he wouldn't answer it, and that was fine—it would mean she was off the hook. She secretly hoped he would answer, however, as the information was worth far more to her than protecting inane details of her own identity. Where she was 'from' hardly mattered, not that he knew that. She instinctively narrowed her eyes at him as she spoke. “What exactly is that _transformation_ of yours?”

 

Trunks's eyes widened slightly. Honestly he'd considered her proposition too quickly, as it never occurred to him that she would ask him about _that_ . Then again, who wouldn't? He was no expert on Saiyan history and he had no idea how far knowledge of his father's people had propagated through the universe, or what any of the knowledge might include. He did know from conversations with Gohan years ago that Frieza had known about the 'Super Saiyan' legend and specifically had feared it enough that he decided to eliminate his most productive slaves _en masse_. If Frieza had that information, and his army had that information, there was no telling how far it had disseminated.

 

The end result of all of this was simple: he couldn't tell her. Because even if Armada had no idea who or what a Saiyan was, she could probably find out relatively easily. Then there would be questions about how he came into existence considering the Saiyan homeworld was destroyed years before his birth. And above all else, he had to protect the Earth and his friends and family there—he had to protect his mother. He knew from the Bmyhadians that the location of their world was still classified, even to the Republican government who had contracted out exploration of that part of the Frontier to the Bmyhadians. She couldn't be trusted with knowing of its existence, regardless of its location. He couldn't answer her question. He considered lying, but he'd never thought about a cover lie before for everything he would need to lie about—and lie consistently—so he ruled that out. If he lied, and she found out about it, she was more likely to dig around for more information, and more likely to learn about the Earth. Even a lie seemed too risky.

 

Apparently he had stayed silent while in thought for too long. When Armada shuffled to her feet, he looked up not even realizing he'd looked away from her. “Let me know when you feel like answering that,” she deadpanned before she turned and walked away.

 

Trunks sat and smarted over what had just occurred. He'd let himself walk into that without thinking, and felt really stupid for it.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Several hours later, well into the night, Armada sat in the bridge, leaned back in her chair with her legs propped up on the ship's console in front of her. After her comrade had gone to bed, she completely wiped the ship's systems and began reinstalling the various operating systems that made flight possible. Armada was no hacker, but she knew where to get the right tools. Knowing that she wanted to add new equipment to the ship, she knew the ship's software systems would need to be updated. She had already contacted someone and sent them the source code to make the changes. He sent it back, and she compiled the code and began installation.

 

The total time to reinstall all of the ship's respective operating systems would take anywhere from six to eight hours. Not that she had anything better to do, really. She only slept about two to three hours a day, and while she knew she was burning off energy to make up for the lack of sleep, she couldn't stop herself. After living like this for more than twenty years, she wasn't sure she could change it. Not that she ever really tried.

 

As the progress bar on the monitor in front of her slowly ticked away, Armada was deep in thought. Her arms were crossed over her chest while she rolled a small storage device around in her right hand, and her eyebrows were pulled together in concentration. She ran over scenario after scenario in her head and she still wasn't sure what Trunks's game was. If he was working with Rieve, he was sloppy—he nearly got himself killed and if that was faked, Rema would have known and he would have told her. Additionally, he'd be a hell of an actor. Being an accomplished liar herself, she could usually spot a con game from a kilometer away. Her gut told her he wasn't lying, most of the time anyway. Her gut also told her that Corvus was dead and that Trunks had killed him. Rieve would sacrifice its own to maintain cover, but not soldiers of Corvus's caliber. She couldn't rationalize her comrade's actions from the perspective of Rieve; not only were they nonsensical, they were counterproductive.

 

There was a possibility that he was working with Dax specifically, and not necessarily Rieve. She knew Dax well enough to know that his only real loyalty was to himself. Why or how he was with Rieve she didn't know, but she knew it had to serve some greater purpose. Dax always played the long game. So if Trunks was working with Dax, the question was why? What else did she have that Dax wanted so badly that he would try to get someone on the “inside?” He had already taken all of her money. Her ship, while heavily modified and customized, wasn't worth much. What else did she have? If he wanted her dead, he was the type to do it himself, but he didn't try to attack her when they last met. And he wasn't so thoughtful as to plan something so elaborate to kill her. Nor would he want her to think it was anyone else. That wasn't who he was. She knew him, she was confident in that.

 

If Trunks was not with Rieve or Dax, she had to entertain the possibility that he was who he said he was. Some random person from a backwater world only connected to the greater universe through Bmyhad. She didn't know the details, but a little research yielded that Bmyhad was indeed charting regions of the Frontier for the Republic. This wasn't classified information though, so anyone with a network connection could learn this. Armada felt bitterness as she thought about how ridiculously powerful he was. Someone like that, just hiding on a random unexplored world? If she had never met Lex, she would have thought something like that to be impossible. An image of him flashing her a smile crossed her mind, and she quickly banished the thought.

 

So if it was pure chance that she met Trunks when she did, that Dax had, in a few seconds, tricked him into getting involved, what was his motivation for sticking around? Clearly Trunks had wanted to get her away from the institute in Ute. He cared about the people there. But after that, why didn't he take the first chance he had to bail? He didn't really owe her, and he was clearly powerful enough to kill her and end it before it all began. Why didn't he? Naivety? Was he simply doing what he thought was “right?” Someone with his kind of power couldn't be selfless or want to help others; it was _impossible_. There had to be some motivation behind his actions, she just couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to traipse around the universe and wreck shit. She smirked to herself; if that was the case then they were more alike than she had previously thought.

 

Armada sighed; the more she thought about this the less sense any possibility made. She needed more data to analyze the situation, and the only thing she could do to get intel was wait. She would have to wait and see what he did, how he reacted to certain situations, before she could take another crack at the problem. She was impatient, but swallowed down her frustration. If all she could do was wait, then that's what she was going to do. Her life was almost entirely ruled by necessity, and this was no different.

 

She glanced up at the monitors in front of her to see the system rebooting again. The primary OS for coordinating the various sub-systems of the ship to work in unison always took the longest time to install, and had to reboot a dozen times at least during installation. Armada thought about their recent jobs and felt frustrated.  She'd relied on Mace to supply work for her, and now that she had to do it on her own again she realized _exactly_ how much she had relied on him and it made her angry. She was angry with herself for letting Mace become a crutch. She looked at the storage device in her right hand, recalling when she first received it and Mace's contact information two years ago.

 

_He held out his right hand, a small data storage device in his fingers. “Here. This,” he paused and made a slight motion with his outstretched hand, “is your new broker. Do the jobs he gives you, and you'll stay off of the radar of law enforcement.”_

_Armada looked from his hand up into his blue eyes. “Why are you giving this to me?” she asked, guarded concern painted across her face._

_He sighed, his black bangs falling into his eyes as he shifted slightly. “Everything in the universe has a place,” he said in that calm, authoritative tone he was known for. “Consider this a moment when you were in the right place at the right time.” She eyed him warily for a moment, which prompted him to speak again. “Go on, take it.”_

_She reached out and took the small device from his hand, taking a few seconds to look at it before shoving it into a jacket pocket. Her eyes went back up to meet his. “I'm not big on owing people favors,” she said flatly._

_He smirked. “Don't consider it a bargaining chip, consider it a thank you,” he replied, his smirk growing slightly wider as he finished speaking._

 

Armada closed her fist around the drive, pushing thoughts of the politician from her mind.  Instead she thought about Mace, and how she felt some guilt for what happened to him.  However, he would be protected, and he’d be safe.  Besides, he’d given her that job in the first place, and he would have known what the consequences would be.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The next morning, Trunks was brushing his teeth and thinking of how he could answer his comrade's question. Specifically, he was trying to craft a believable lie. It was a lot of work, and he still wasn't sure he would say anything. Regardless, he felt like he should have something in his back pocket if need be, so he started constructing it last night. He spit into the sink and rinsed his mouth out. At least for now he would keep quiet, until he had something of substance.

 

He dressed and headed for the galley to throw something together for breakfast. While passing through the bridge, Armada spoke without turning around to face him. “Once I finish this last reboot of the ship, we're taking off. Another job,” she added on at the end as an explanation.

 

Twenty minutes later, Trunks was seated in the bridge to his partner's left, sipping water from a bottle as they sailed through space. “So,” he paused to take another sip of water, “what is this job exactly?”

 

Armada was intensely watching diagnostic information on the monitor in front of her and didn't bother to look at Trunks. “A client wants two pieces of art taken from a couple. The couple are two movie stars who are married and live in a mansion that's also a space station,” she explained quickly.

 

Trunks's eyebrows came together and the left raised up higher than the right. “Wait, their home is a _space station?_ ” he asked. He needed to make sure he heard her correctly because that just sounded insane.

 

She still didn't bother to look at him, and started typing away at the digital keyboard before her. “They're both ridiculously rich, and the best way to stay away from the press is to hide somewhere it's not easy to get to. You have to have an authorization code to successfully dock to the station,” she said quickly.

 

He nodded in response. “And I take it you have the code?” he asked warily.

 

“No,” Armada replied, glancing sideways at him from the corner of her eyes. “We'll crack it on-site.”

 

“We? Will crack some encryption algorithm?” Trunks asked, exasperation dripping from his voice. She couldn't be serious... right?

 

“No,” she said in annoyance and narrowed her eyes at him. “I have a program that will crack it once we are within range of the signal.” She paused a moment before adding in an equally annoyed voice, “Do I look like a tech expert to you?”

 

Trunks rolled his eyes in response. “That's why I was asking,” he said with a sigh. _I'm not sure that you're an expert in anything but getting your ass kicked,_ he thought bitterly. If she had bothered to keep looking at him she would seen the irritation painted across his face.

 

“The station is close to the Republican border; it'll take most of today to get there,” Armada explained, her attention back to the ship. Glancing between a few different screens on the main monitor in front of her, _she focused on a map showing their current course and destination. Kneeling in the dirt, Armada looked up from the small tablet in her hands to see the ship they were after sailing away over the horizon._

 

_She reached up with her right hand and pressed down on a button on the side of her helmet. “Laevatein, do you copy?” she asked, an icon on her HUD flickering to indicate she was speaking over the open channel. “This is Eris-Four, I've tagged the ship, are you getting the signal?” she asked between deep breaths._

 

“ _Copy Eris-Four, this is Laevatein,” she heard Commander Juvius's voice respond. “We will pursue from here, your orders are to return to the landing zone for extraction.”_

 

“ _Roger that,” Armada replied and released the button for her radio. She took a moment to fold the cover over on her tracking device before reattaching it to the side of her right hip. The waypoint displayed on the HUD inside her helmet told her to head southwest, and she still had about twenty-two kilometers to go to reach the extraction point. Their enemy had deployed a Minovsky field to slow down Valencia's attack long enough to retreat. Armada had followed to tag the ship the enemy commander fled in, and was still within range of the Minovsky field. It would take more time to go find the generator and destroy it, so she chose to just run for the edge of the field and fly the rest of the way back. She could sense that the field was weak in her location meaning she was close to getting out of it._

 

_With her equipment secured, she took off running. The ruins of the city made it difficult to sprint; her path was littered with burning rubble from the initial bombing from orbit and she had to climb over bits of jagged debris on the way back. After a few hundred meters, she found a relatively clear street and took a detour to run down it. She stayed off of the radio while running, but that didn't stop her comrades from flooding the airwaves._

 

“ _Looks like your team has finally done something useful for once. You should be proud, Cain. Your squad isn't a total waste of resources.” The radio icon flashed with the words 'Bia-Four.'_

 

“ _Come now Dheihar, no need to be so harsh on our dear comrades,” 'Bia-Three' said mockingly._

 

“ _Don't defend those peons, Hirlos. They've done nothing of use for months now, we may as well execute the lot of them.” Bia-Four paused. “I might have reconsidered if any of them were decent to look at.”_

 

_'Bia-Two' laughed. “Funny you say that Dheihar, considering Ar damn near looks identical to you. Could've sworn you were sisters myself if I didn't know any better.”_

 

“ _Don't be stupid, Dax,” Bia-Four replied. “I couldn't possibly share genetics with someone so pathetically weak. Besides, you were just promoted to our squad, you don't want to make enemies of your new squad-mates now do you?”_

 

“ _Well seeing as how I'm ranked above you that doesn't mean shit, now does it?” Bia-Two replied with a laugh. Armada heard others laugh as well, their call-signs scrolled on her HUD too quickly for her to register. Still running down the street, she heard something crack to her right and glanced toward a building set aflame. As soon as she set eyes on the multistory building, there was an explosion and the building began to collapse. She sprinted as fast as she could, but it was too late. A large piece of concrete fell on the back of her feet, causing her to trip and fall forward._

 

_She turned as she fell, and landed on her back just in time for more debris to fall on her chest. The air was stolen from her lungs due to the force of the hit, and her helmet's visor was covered in ash and dust, obstructing her view. She struggled for a few agonizing seconds to breathe, and finally was able to inhale._

 

“ _What the hell just happened?!” Eris-One shouted. “Eris-Four, do you copy? Eris-Four, status!” she heard the voice of her squad leader Cainus scream into the radio._

 

“ _I take back what I said,” Bia-Four said lowly in a mocking tone._

 

“ _Her vitals look bad,” another voice chimed in, Eris-Three. “She must still be in range of the Minovsky field.”_

 

“ _Eris-Four, respond!” Cainus barked out once more. Armada wanted desperately to reply, but it was all she could do to keep breathing. She couldn't find the energy to speak._

 

“ _Evac in a hundred-and-thirty seconds,” Bia-Three cut in mechanically._

 

“ _She's hurt,” Eris-Three reiterated. “There's no time. We have to leave because they're going to glass the place.”_

 

“ _Damnit!” Eris-One shouted._

 

_They continued their conversation, and Armada stared up at the sky through her helmet. The dust on her visor mostly blocked her view, but at the top of her visor it was thinner, and she could see the sky. She could see a few stars in the sky as Welgoss's sun was setting, leaving the sky a mixture of purple and pink. She couldn't move under the weight of the concrete that had fallen on her. This was it. She wasn't going to make it back. She felt relief wash over her; it was finally over. She would stare at the sky as the fleet's plasma weapons bombarded the surface of Welgoss. It would be a quick death, and in battle. She couldn't ask for more._

 

“ _Screw this,” she saw the icon flash for Bia-Two and heard muffled sounds she couldn't identify._

 

“ _What the hell are you doing? We have orders,” Bia-Three yelled. “Be ready for extraction at the landing zone. Are you disobeying orders?”_

 

“ _The landing party isn't here yet, so as long as I get back before they get here, I haven't disobeyed shit,” she heard the distinct accent of Dax reply to Hirlos. There was more shouting, but Armada tuned it out. She closed her eyes and prayed that Dax wasn't about to do what she thought he was about to do. He had always been a stubborn ass, and he continued to prove that he hadn't changed. She didn't need his help right now, she didn't want it. She wanted to stay right where she was and let it all end._

 

“ _Give me the damn radar, Tren,” she heard Dax shout above the chatter of the rest of her comrades' voices. Didn't he understand? He'd been part of Valencia longer than she had. Didn't he realize that she wasn't fighting for her life for a reason? She willed herself to push it out of her mind; he wouldn't get to her in time anyway. The extraction was because they were preparing the orbital bombardment. They wouldn't stop for half a dozen infantry, even from the the Baluarian squads. But the most damning thing was that she was stuck in a Minovsky field, and he couldn't just fly straight to her. She was too far in the field for him to make it to her and drag her back to the ship in time. He would realize this and give up._

 

_Armada was tired. The pain started to subside and she felt tired, more tired than she had in years. Just as she felt the muscles in the base of her neck and across the back of her shoulders relax, she felt it. She felt the Minovsky field fall away. Seconds later someone was tugging at her right arm, and she heard muffled sounds like someone speaking to her. Then she felt a hand press against her helmet and Dax's voice entered her ears._

 

“ _Hey, time to go,” he said, the icon on her HUD flashing that he'd opened a private line with her. He pushed the rubble off of her and pulled her to her feet by her arms. “You're not gonna die today,” he reiterated and she finally made an attempt to steady herself on her feet._

 

Trunks scowled as he looked at Armada. He'd asked her repeatedly what the plan was when they arrived at their destination but she continued to ignore him and stare straight ahead. Her hands weren't moving on the control panel in front of her so he figured she was deliberately ignoring him, and it was damn-near infuriating. “You're such a child,” he said angrily before rising from his seat and leaving the bridge. He wasn't going to deal with her attitude right now.

 

Armada let out a quick breath and looked down at her hands. She quickly glanced around and recognized that she was in the ship, in the pilot's seat, in the bridge. Realizing what had just happened, she brought her right hand up to her forehead and closed her eyes to help clear her head. Rema wasn't exaggerating about the hallucinations. She knew this would happen, but she didn't think they would be so _real_.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The door hissed in front of him as the air pressure was equalized with the dock on the other side. Trunks stood just behind Armada while they waited for the door to open. The rush of air stopped, and the door slowly slid to the side, revealing the long dock on the other side. The pair casually strolled the fifteen meters down the dock until they reached the second air lock, this one leading inside the station.

 

When they reached the door, Armada pulled a small computer from her belt and flipped it open; Trunks recognized it as the same device they used back on Bmyhad when tracking the rebels in Juu. She pulled out a small cord and plugged it into a socket just below the digital keypad next to the door. She held the computer with her left hand and typed with her right. “Five minutes at most to crack the code,” she said flatly before turning to her right to look at her comrade.

 

“I thought you said the encryption on the dock was harder to crack,” Trunks said with a questioning gaze.

 

“It was, but we had more computational power to run the algorithm using the ship's computers,” she stated quickly. “Door locks like this require local access to hack so it just takes a little more time,” she explained, taking another glance at the progress on the small computer. They waited in silence a brief moment before she looked at her comrade from the sides of her eyes. “Is that necessary?”

 

“What?” Trunks asked in an annoyed tone. He was more confused than irritated but it came out that way all the same. She looked over his shoulder and nodded her head, and he understood she was motioning to the sword strapped to his back. He scoffed, “With all the crap we've walked into recently that wasn't what it was supposed to be, yeah, I brought it with me.”

 

“We're here to pick up a painting and a vase,” Armada said, turning her gaze back to the computer in her hands. “You going to cut our painting down from the wall with that? I'm certain our client wants the items in the same condition this couple bought them in.”

 

“Very funny,” Trunks deadpanned with a scowl. Another thought hit him; “How much is this stuff worth anyway?” he asked.

 

“Between the two pieces,” she paused in thought briefly, “about thirty million betas.” She kept her attention on the decryption program she was running.

 

“Thirty million betas?!” Trunks repeated with an incredulous laugh. “Why the hell are we delivering these for a half a million when we could sell them for thirty?” This had to be the stupidest job they had ever undertaken.

 

Armada turned to look at him and glowered. “First of all, you have to know a fence who deals in fine art. A good one, otherwise you'll never off-load your take. Second,” she continued her rant, “the problem with priceless art is that every piece is unique, so everyone will know that _you_ have it and exactly how you got it. Makes it that much harder to get rid of, _and_ get paid.” She looked like she was about to laugh when she turned her body toward her comrade. “So if you know a very good black market fine arts dealer, now would be a _great_ time to share that information,” she finished, her mouth in a flat line showing her displeasure at even entertaining his thought.

 

“Sorry I asked,” Trunks muttered in response and shifted on his feet. The keypad next to the door in front of them suddenly beeped and drew his attention.

 

“We're in,” Armada said and collected her cable from the wall as the airlock on this door hissed while equalizing pressure just like the door to the ship. As Armada put her computer back in its hitch on her belt, the door opened, sliding up from the floor toward the ceiling. Upon walking in, they found themselves standing in a lavish entry.

 

Trunks took several steps inside and slowed, his eyes roaming around what he saw in shock. He knew this was a rich celebrity couple who could afford a space station for a home, but he wasn't expecting it to look like an actual _home_ on the inside. Almost everything was a pristine white, from the marble floors to the walls and ceiling. From the entry there was a wide view into a living room, with hallways heading from the entry to the left and right. The room in front of them was decorated with fine art and fine furniture, and had a large golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The trim and ceilings were finished with decorative molding, and in general the whole place radiated wealth. Nothing was made in a utilitarian fashion.

 

Taking several steps into the sitting room in front of them, Armada glanced around. The ceilings were far above their heads, and taking a look to her right she saw a second story with a balcony running along the far side of the room. “Nothing in here,” she said, taking another few steps toward the glass doors opposite the entrance. “Looks like this courtyard serves as the center of the station,” she said while looking 'outside'. In the center of the station was a patch of greenery which included a grassy area with a garden at one end. The courtyard was surrounded by glass, and Armada could see across to all the other rooms that bordered it, on both levels. Her eyes scanned everything in her view, until a blue and green vase with gold designs painted on it caught her eye across the courtyard.

 

“There's the vase,” she said and turned to her comrade. “Let's go around,” she added and started walking toward the far end of the sitting room where the balcony ran across the top. Something told her they should leave the courtyard alone and she intended to do just that. She heard her comrade fall into step behind her as they followed the outer edge of the courtyard while staying inside the building.

 

When they reached the room where Armada saw the vase, the lights began to flicker. “What?” Trunks said lowly to himself as the lights finally dimmed and the station went dark. Emergency lights kicked on within a few seconds so the mercenaries weren't in total darkness. Armada turned to him and opened her mouth as if she was about to say something when she stopped. Trunks felt her ki completely disappear at the same time he felt his own fall away from him, as if he was trying to grasp water in his hands and it just fell through into nothing.

 

“Minovsky field,” Armada whispered to herself, her eyes darting around the room.

 

Trunks didn't catch what she said, and immediately asked “What?” Before she could respond Trunks thought he heard a 'click' in the distance, and it looked like his comrade heard it as well since she looked at him.

 

“Get down!” she shouted and reached for a table sitting a meter in front of them. She pulled the wooden table back so it fell over on its side, knocking the chairs under it down as well. As she and Trunks ducked down behind their makeshift cover, gunshots rang out and peppered the table.

 

“And you said my sword wasn't necessary,” Trunks shouted sardonically to her over the noise of gunfire.

 

“What are you going to do, block the bullets with it?” Armada angrily countered. Before Trunks could say anything back to her, Armada winced and clenched her left shoulder with her right hand.

 

“You're hit?” Trunks asked frantically.

 

Armada removed her right hand to see a smear of blood across her palm. “Just grazed,” she said before looking at her partner again. “When they stop to reload, find cover behind something more substantial,” she barked out before looking back over her left shoulder.

 

“What are you going to do?” Trunks questioned her warily. She sounded like she wouldn't be joining him in hiding.

 

The blond mercenary turned back to him. “I'm going to take care of the bigger problem,” she said with a determined visage.

 

Trunks opened his mouth to speak but the gunfire stopped and the room fell silent. Armada turned and fled, sprinting across the open room headed for another doorway on the far side. Trunks hesitated only a second before fleeing from cover as well. He ran away from his comrade toward the hallway behind them which was much closer. Once he reached the hallway, he immediately stopped and pressed his back against the wall to the side of the doorway. He held his breath and listened intensely for any sign of who had fired at them. From the direction of the sounds initially, he suspected the shooter—or shooters—was on the second floor firing from the long balcony that ran around nearly the entire mansion. The emergency lights didn't provide enough lighting to see that far, so he had to rely on his better-than-average hearing to find their assailant.

 

After a very long half-minute of silence, Trunks heard something move in the distance followed by a loud crash. It sounded like something huge had hit the floor, and he wondered if their assailant went after his comrade first. A few seconds after the crash, he could hear a few dull clicks that sounded like they were moving toward him. Trunks let out a deep breath slowly, before inhaling and holding his breath again. He needed to stay quiet to hear what was happening.

 

It was then that Trunks thought he heard someone speaking, but the words were too low and muffled to hear. There was a pause, and then someone spoke again. This time he heard the words clearly, “You can't hide from me.” _A woman?_ he thought curiously; he was fairly certain that was not Armada's voice. He stayed put but kept his gaze glued to the doorway.

 

A dark figure suddenly appeared in the doorway, with an arm outstretched toward him, pointing the barrel of a pistol right between his eyes. “Surprise!” he heard that same voice say with mirth. Despite not having his ki to help him move, Trunks could still react quickly and was able to slam his left forearm into the right wrist of his attacker in time to avoid the bullet that shot from the pistol.

 

He quickly followed up with an uppercut to the gut of the woman in the dark. However, his fist felt like it had hit a solid wall and he was certain he'd hurt himself more than he hurt her. Swiftly following up his punch, he planted the base of his right palm into where he estimated the woman's sternum to be. His hand hurt like hell from that hit, but he heard the distinctive rush of air as it left someone's lungs who was stunned. He took the opportunity to flee down the hallway away from her, not daring to stop and look back. He hoped that whatever Armada was doing, it was going to help—because at this rate things weren't going to go well for either of them.

 

In a different area of the station, Armada ran down a long hallway, glancing in each room as she ran by. Her first goal would have been to take out the Minovsky generator, the device creating the Minovsky field which was blocking use of her energy. However, something was off with this field, and she couldn't feel the pulsation of the generator so that she could locate it. Until she figured out how to track down the generator, she needed to get the lights back on in the station. Life support had not been cut, so the lighting was a strategic outage. Which meant that it wasn't destroyed, and it could be reversed fairly easily. She just had to find the electrical closet.

 

The next room she glanced into on her right turned out to be her destination. She stopped and slid slightly from the momentum before she was able to run into the room. Though the station was mostly dark and running on very dim emergency lighting, there was enough in this room for her to see what had happened. She saw that the main electrical breaker panel had been removed and the wires were exposed. Several small, black circular devices were clipped around a number of wires in the box, and Armada breathed a sigh of relief that whoever this group was, they used a low-tech solution. She quickly pulled the black clips from the wires, and when the last was removed the lights flickered several times before turning on and staying on.

 

With the lights back on, she stayed put for a moment and considered what to do next. All Minovsky generators had a pulse, and this was no natural Minovsky field. She had to find it; they didn't have a choice. She let out a long breath and closed her eyes; she had to focus on that annoying buzzing in the back of her skull. After a long moment, she started to feel it—started to feel the pulses coming from two different directions. She cursed herself for not realizing sooner that _this_ was how it was done. With two generators synced to equal but opposite timing, it would feel like a natural field with no indication as to where the generators were.

 

Armada took off running for the first generator. It was a good thing she had so much experience dealing with Minovsky fields and was so sensitive to them, otherwise they may have never figured it out. She hoped her comrade had managed to stay out of harm's way while she worked. She could sense that the two generators were evenly placed apart on opposite ends of the station. She ran first for the field that was closest to her and farthest away from they were first attacked. Unable to sense anything, she hoped she wouldn't run into their assailant, at least until she got the first field down. It would make finding the second generator immeasurably easier.

 

With the lights back on, thanks to his comrade he was certain, Trunks stayed ducked behind a wooden dresser in what appeared to be a bedroom. He wasn't sure he could fight this woman, because when he'd punched her he hurt himself more than he did her. Not to mention that she at least had a gun, and he wasn't keen on getting shot today. He did still have his sword, but he wasn't sure he would get an opportunity to use it. Whoever, or _whatever_ this woman was, she wasn't slow.

 

Trunks then heard three high-pitched beeps in rapid succession, coming from beyond the doorway of the bedroom he crouched in. At the same time, he felt an annoying buzzing in the back of his head, like it was coming from the base of his skull. “Aw shit,” he heard the woman speak, close enough to make him sweat. How had she gotten so close to him so quietly?

 

“She's as good as they say,” the woman to herself, but loud enough for Trunks to hear clearly. Was she speaking to him, he wondered? He glanced to his right, and could see the reflection of the woman in a picture frame sitting across the room from him. She wasn't looking into the reflection, which meant she wasn't using it to see him. But she did appear to be looking right at the open doorway, and walking his way.

 

“There wasn't supposed to be two of you,” she said, still slowly moving forward. As she inched closer, Trunks could see her face more clearly in the transparent reflection. She had long black hair and eerie red eyes, with yellow-lens sunglasses sitting on the end of her nose, below her eyes. She kept her gaze fixed against the wall, not the door, and Trunks's mind raced with questions about what she was doing. “That's okay,” she continued, coming to a stop only two meters from the room. “Maybe I'll get hazard pay.” She immediately lifted her arm along with the pistol in her hand, and Trunks realized she could see him through the wall.

 

The assassin fired, and Trunks ran out from his cover through the open door toward her. He swiftly drew his sword and slashed at her hand holding the gun. The assassin recovered in time to move her hand so she parried his sword with her pistol, however she didn't have enough leverage to take the full force of the hit, and the pistol was knocked from her hand. Wasting no time, Trunks stepped toward her and again swung his sword down at her. She leaped back to escape his attack, reaching over her head and pulling a long black cylindrical rod from back.

 

With her rod in her right hand, she fell back into a battle-ready stance and paused. She was wearing some kind of black body suit, and wore a long black trench coat over it. With all of that black, it was no wonder to Trunks why she was so hard to see in the dark. “A sword? Really?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Who uses those anymore?” she asked in a half-mocking tone.

 

Trunks stayed silent, having no intention of speaking to this woman. They stared at one another for a moment, when something was heard on the far end of the room. Both he and his enemy looked to the side with their eyes, and Trunks saw his comrade sprinting down the hall on the other end of the station. He glanced back to the enemy in front of him, and she seemed more concerned with what Armada was doing. That said to Trunks that whatever she had done so far, was good for them and bad for this assassin. So now it was his turn to provide backup and keep the assassin busy.

 

Gripping his sword with both hands, Trunks swung at the woman in black. She parried with her black rod, which looked meager but was apparently stronger than appearances let on. He stepped forward and kept attacking, kept slashing at her, and she kept blocking with her rod. It might have appeared that they were evenly matched, except that she kept taking steps backward to keep her balance, which told Trunks that she was taking the kinetic energy of his sword through her whole body. He just had to keep at it and not give her a chance to counterattack.

 

His plan was short-lived though, because the woman ducked slightly and parried his sword with her rod set underneath the sword. She then pushed forward and up to the right, pushing his sword up and away from her. Trunks didn't let go, so both of his hands were forced away from the center of his body. She followed up with a kick to his abdomen with her left foot, and the force was far greater than Trunks expected. She sent him flying backwards through the air, and he crashed into an end table set against the wall with a lamp on it.

 

She charged at him and leaped into the air, with both hands on her rod above her head. She swung down, intending to bash his skull in, but Trunks was able to roll out of the way at the last second. He made a half-hearted swipe at her legs with his sword in his left hand, but she raised her foot and parried the blow. There was some kind of dense material on the bottom of her feet that made a sound like metal clashing with metal when his sword hit it. The blow had made her stumble slightly, and Trunks scrambled to his feet while she was off-balance.

 

The woman charged at him again, and the two of them entered another duel, Trunks's sword clashing her with her metal rod. This time, she took more of the offensive and Trunks felt an overwhelming strength in her attacks that he didn't feel before. He found himself forced backward so he wouldn't lose balance, and she slowly pushed him more into the center of the room, away from the walls. He took another step back to block another swipe from her, and found himself standing against the back of a decorative white sofa. She pressed forward, and with their weapons locked Trunks was bent over backwards over the couch.

 

The black assassin pressed farther, until the blade of Trunks's sword was only inches from his throat. “How sharp is that thing, anyway?” she asked with a devilish grin, pressing forward with a strength that Trunks could not counter in this state.

 

On the second floor, Armada dashed through room after room, trying to locate the second Minovsky generator. She was close, but she couldn't sense its exact location. She turned toward the inside edge of the second floor, and ran out to the balcony _where she jumped down over the edge. Falling into the dirt below, she rolled forward to help soften the blow._

 

“ _Come on!” Tren screamed next to her as he snatched her up by the shoulder, latching onto her armor. Explosions sounded around them, causing dirt and debris to fly into the air. She heaved for breath inside of her helmet, struggling to keep up with Tren as they sprinted away from the enemy._

 

Trunks was staring into the creepy red eyes of the woman bearing down on his neck with his own blade, when he saw her eyes flicker to his left briefly, looking at the blade of his sword. He saw recognition in her eyes, as if she saw something reflected there. Instead of continuing the fight to kill him with his own weapon, she swiftly shifted her rod underneath Trunks's sword and pulled up, throwing it away from him and out of his hands. She then planted a hard left fist into his face, sending him flying backwards over the couch and onto the floor.

 

She turned and reached for her right hip with her left hand, pulling out a second pistol from underneath her coat. Trunks looked up in time to see her turn and aim up at the second floor balcony, straight at his comrade who was standing there, unmoving. “Armada!” Trunks shouted, but she stood still, her eyes blank as if she was in a daze.

 

The assassin fired, hitting Armada in the chest, right above the heart. Fortunately, the breastplate of her armor deflected the hit and it caused her to jerk in reaction. That seemed to jar her senses, and Armada turned and fled as the assassin continued to unload the rest of her clip at the mercenary on the second floor.

 

His sword too far away from him at the moment, Trunks leaped back over the couch to tackle the woman in black from behind. The pair of them hit the floor with a much louder crash than seemed reasonable. The black assassin reached back and swung her elbows at Trunks, and he managed to avoid them, even capturing her left arm in his hands and pulling it behind her in an attempt to restrain her.

 

She stopped flailing for a moment and Trunks thought he might have her pinned, but she laughed darkly. Then, despite his best attempts to stop her, she slowly brought her left leg forward enough to get a grip on the floor with her foot, and then forced herself to stand up. She had inhuman strength, Trunks determined, as she pushed herself up and then threw him off her back like he was nothing. His back slammed into the white couch again, this time splintering the wood and pushing the furniture back with him several meters.

 

The woman walked over slowly and picked up both her rod and Trunks's sword. She turned, flipping the sword around by the hilt in her right hand. “Nice weapon,” she said, stalking toward him while he forced himself to his feet once more. “I think I might actually keep it,” she said with a malicious smirk. “After I use it to kill you, of course.”

 

She swung the rod in her left hand first, aiming to hit Trunks across his abdomen. He tried to catch the rod in his hands but she was too fast, and the rod slammed into him with a force that he hadn't felt in years. Dazed, he fell back a step, but she followed with another swing. The rod smashed into the bottom of his chin, knocking his head back and causing him to fall to the floor. The woman walked over to him quickly, and before he could register what happened she nailed him across the face with the rod, and he could feel his mouth filling with blood.

 

She leaned over him, leering as she pointed the tip of his sword at his throat with her right hand. “I don't know who you are,” she said, sounding a little winded, “but you picked the wrong mercenary.” Before she had a chance to move, something happened, and that annoying buzzing in the back of Trunks's head went away. He immediately felt his ki rush into him, like a dam had broken and the water flooded a dry valley. Wasting no time, Trunks jumped up faster than his enemy could register and wrested his sword from her hands before planting his right elbow into her abdomen, sending her scrawling across the room and into another table which broke apart upon impact.

 

As Trunks walked over to the woman in black, who stayed where she landed as she struggled for breath, he looked up to see his comrade jump over the balcony railing and float down to the floor. “You okay?” she asked him, noticing the blood running from his mouth.

 

“Yeah,” Trunks answered simply and nodded, continuing his walk toward the enemy. Armada turned and followed him, and the pair of them stopped when they reached their attacker and stood on either side of her.

 

“ _Dos verkanna_ ,” she said lowly, sounding like she was in pretty bad shape. Trunks knew he hit her hard, but maybe he used more strength than he thought he had. In his defense, she was about to kill him.

 

“Xyros Kikulade,” Armada said with a knowing gaze as she finally got a good look at their assailant's face. “Never thought I'd run into you,” Armada added flatly.

 

“Hah,” Xyros laughed. “So you know your competition?” she said with mirth.

 

Trunks watched their exchange with guarded curiosity.  Now that he had the time to really look at her, he noticed that Xyros’s skin was quite a bit darker than his own.  Not to mention that since Trunks had regained his ki, he could sense his comrade, but he couldn't sense the woman in front of him on the floor. _Is she an android?_ Trunks thought, a sick feeling coming over him.

 

“You really thought you could kill me?” Armada asked. Trunks nearly guffawed; _he_ was the one who fought off Kikulade, not her.

 

“Hell yeah, and I would have too, if this guy wasn't with you,” she said, her eyes motioning toward Trunks briefly. “It's bullshit, all the intel said you worked alone.” She reached up and wiped at her mouth, a small trickle of blood coming out. Trunks didn't feel bad about it.

 

“Who hired you?” Armada pressed, the scowl she typically wore reappearing on her face.

 

“Normally I wouldn't divulge that kind of information, but considering the circumstances, what's the point in keeping someone else's secret?” Xyros nearly laughed. “The Terretto family,” she blurted out, wiping again at her mouth with her right hand. “They were pissed off about something you did some years back, I don't know I didn't really care to pay attention,” she finished.

 

“The Terretto family?” Trunks repeated, looking pointedly at his comrade. How many mafias did she intend to fight against?

 

“I stole a mark from them five years ago,” Armada answered, looking at Trunks. “He was worth six-point-four million betas, that's why they're angry,” she explained.

 

“They're weak anyway,” Xyros interjected. “They always contract out the big stuff but they're cheapskates, they never buy the right person for the job.” Trunks and Armada both looked at the assassin warily, considering what she just said. “Well,” she clarified, her face darkening in embarrassment, “they offered seventeen million to bring you in, dead; I figured it was worth a try at least.”

 

“Seventeen million?” Trunks asked, his eyebrows raising at that amount.

 

“Have you seen her record?” Xyros countered, raising one eyebrow higher than the other in disbelief that he seemed to ignorant as to who he was working with. The mercenaries exchanged a glance before Kikulade spoke again.

 

“Whatever,” Xyros let out a breath and dropped her head back down to the floor. “It doesn't matter now since I'm gonna die. Sucks though,” she said, her gaze turning inward, “there was a new restaurant in Milvallen I really wanted to try.” She seemed to be speaking more to herself than anyone else.

 

Trunks's eyes looked over at Armada, and her gaze met his. “You don't have to die today,” Armada said, still looking at her comrade. Trunks's visage contorted in confusion; what was she trying to pull? “We need resources,” Armada said slowly, and Trunks suddenly understood what she was getting at. Resources. To fight Rieve. She turned her gaze to the mercenary lying on the floor, “Why don't you come work for me?”

 

Xyros laughed darkly. “Well if those are my two options, it's obvious I'll go with you,” she replied with a smirk.

 

Armada reached out toward Xyros, holding an open hand toward her. Xyros sat up and took Armada's hand in her own, and the blonde haired woman helped the black haired assassin get up from the floor. Once she was on her feet and they were looking at each other eye-to-eye, Armada spoke again. “Don't try to kill me,” she deadpanned. “You won't be successful, and it's not necessary because I'm going to give you your share of what we earn,” she added in a flat tone.

 

Xyros smirked. “All right, sounds good,” she said with excitement dripping from her voice. “By the way,” she said in a much more serious voice, “the name's Laiserta. You can call me Lai for short, most people do.”

 

Armada smirked. “I already knew your code name,” she said and turned, walking away from her partner and the new recruit.

 

Laiserta fell into step behind her. “Yeah but it's so much cooler than Xyros!” she said excitedly, motioning wiht her hands to emphasize her words. She glanced at Trunks and stopped walking. “Oh, sorry about all that, by the way,” she said sheepishly, motioning toward his torso. “Seeing as how we're on the same team now I figured I should apologize,” she said lowly with a nervous smile and shrug of her shoulders. “You know how these things go,” she laughed while throwing her hands up to either side of her body. She walked toward the weapons she had dropped previously to retrieve them.

 

“Yeah,” Trunks said slowly to himself and watched curiously as 'Laiserta' pick up her rod and one pistol. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading! :] And yes “Minovsky” is a reference to UC Gundam series however it's not the same thing as it is in Gundam. More explanation will be forthcoming on what it is and how it works. Please leave feedback if you have a moment.

  
  



	13. Mission 08:  Prototype [Part I]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew takes on a job to steal an illegal VI processor from police headquarters in Hrimth, Taydr.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Dax flopped into the brown leather chair and blew his bangs out of his eyes. He was exhausted. After leaving Bmyhad almost four months ago he'd been on a run of missions, one after another. He was glad to be back at headquarters and given the opportunity to rest. He let his head fall back and his body relax, preparing himself to take a nap in this chair. It wasn't as good as a bed, but he had to be available for a debriefing in two hours, so there was no point in going to his room. He would take a nap in the lounge, a glorious nap, then his phone would alert him to wake him up and he'd walk into his debriefing completely refreshed. At least, in a perfect world, that's what would happen.

 

But the world wasn't perfect, or at least it wasn't today. “Dax,” he heard someone say his name as their feet shuffled across the floor.

 

“Ugh,” Dax groaned, turning his head to his left before he opened his eyes. “What?” he asked, his voice sounding more exhausted than irritated.

 

“Palmer wants to see you right now,” a young man with a bright red mohawk and amber eyes said as he approached his comrade. “Apparently they want you back on Bmyhad,” he continued. “Something to do with the local cell being wiped out,” he finished, shifting his weight on his feet.

 

“Oh for fuck's sake Rouge,” Dax cursed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I just got here, I'm being debriefed in two hours, and I have to leave again?” he demanded. This was insanity in Dax's opinion. He needed rest; he wasn't a goddamn robot.

 

“Sorry bro,” Rouge shrugged and shook his head, “not my call. Word is they think the mercenary's still holed up on Bmyhad and they need eyes on the ground,” he said lazily.

 

Dax rolled his eyes and sighed. “Not like they need me for that.”

 

“Don't know what to tell you,” Rouge said, shifting his feet again. “Go see Palmer, he'll fill you in on what the boss wants.”

 

Dax scowled and sat still for a moment, before finally willing his body to stand up. “Fine, I'm moving,” he said with a sigh and headed out. He made his way to the elevators and went up to B4. He strolled toward the network operations center where he knew Palmer pretty much lived, so it wasn't a shock to the Rieve enforcer to find one of their many tech-gurus waiting for him there.

 

“Dax,” Palmer called out and walked over to meet him. “I need you back on Bmyhad, we need eyes on the ground, _bad_ ,” Palmer blurted out.

 

Dax kept himself from growling and his eyes drifted up to the ceiling. “I was just there four months ago mate,” he ground out before bringing his eyes back down to look at his comrade. “What the hell has changed so drastically that you have to shove me out the door the day I get back?”

 

“Our team in Ute was killed,” Palmer replied plainly. “But more importantly, Corvus went there about seven weeks ago and hasn't come back,” he continued.

 

Dax's face contorted into confusion. “C-Corvus,” he stuttered in surprise, “hasn't come back?” He tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth for a moment before closing it. Dax was completely dumbfounded; what the hell was Palmer trying to say?

 

“We have reason to believe he's dead,” Palmer replied, still cool in tone.

 

“Corvus,” Dax's face twisted into a disbelieving smile, as if he was going to laugh at the audacity of Palmer's statement. “Corvus, the guy that's been here _twenty_ years,” Dax started, his reddish-brown hair shaking along with his head. “Corvus, the guy that's only second in strength to Rieve _himself?_ ” he continued, still not convinced. This had to be a joke.

 

“Second in strength to Rieve, yeah,” Palmer nodded and spoke in time with Dax. “Well, put it to you this way,Dax; he hasn't come back,” Palmer's brown eyes searched the room behind his comrade as he spoke. “What the hell else would stop Corvus? He's deathly loyal to Ryan, he wouldn't have just bailed,” Palmer said in a rush, a dejected sigh escaping him.

 

Dax brought his right hand up and scratched at his cheek with his thumb. “Shit,” he whispered, turning his face and gaze away from Palmer for a moment. _Ar couldn't have killed him_ , Dax thought. No, she wasn't strong enough. Unless she caught him in a Minovsky field, in some kind of trap, but Corvus could detect Minovsky generators just like Dax, so he couldn't see how that would have worked.

 

“We think she had help,” Palmer cut in to Dax's thoughts, drawing the man's attention back to him. “Ryan's pissed, he wants these guys alive, so we need to get intel on their movements,” the tech explained. “We haven't had much luck with hacking, so we need someone there. Seemed the obvious choice was to send you, since you were the last one to successfully tail her,” he finished.

 

“Yeah,” Dax said in a sigh, “I'll go.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek; it was a nervous habit of his. He really didn't want to go back there. He really didn't want to get involved any more than he already was. He tried to end this four months ago, but apparently that had failed. Now he didn't have a choice; he had to follow orders.

 

“Sorry man, I know you wanted to rest since you just got back,” Palmer said, setting his hand on Dax's shoulder in a sign of solidarity. “The shuttle won't be ready until tomorrow, so go get some rest,” he finished and walked away, leaving Dax to his thoughts.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 08: Prototype [Part I]

 

 

-+-

 

 

The door slid open and Laiserta stood on the other side, a smirk on her face. “Nice ship,” she said as she walked inside, glancing at Trunks before looking at Armada. “At least from the outside,” she amended. The three of them walked into the bridge and Laiserta ran out from behind Armada, straight toward the main console in the bridge.

 

“It's a modified Juntan OS,” Laiserta exclaimed. She punched a few keys on the console and several other screens popped up. “Heavily modified,” she added, still clearly excited and beaming when she looked at Armada.

 

“What's that?” Trunks asked. Armada never told him anything about the ship, so it was interesting to see someone else's opinion of it who was a little more educated on the subject than he was.

 

Laiserta stood upright and turned toward him, then toward his comrade, a questioning look on her face. “This guy,” she pointed at Trunks, “is he for real?” she asked in a half-serious, half-mocking tone.

 

“He doesn't travel much,” Armada supplied before Trunks had a chance to respond.

 

“Clearly,” Laiserta almost rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention back to the ship. She started discussing the finer details of the ship's OS and navigational systems, a conversation that Trunks tuned out.

 

He and his comrade met Laiserta four days ago in what was a setup for her to kill them. According to Laiserta it was a mission to kill _Armada_ ; Trunks just had the misfortune of being there. After settling things without anyone dying, Laiserta agreed to join what now could potentially be called a crew. She had a remote-operated shuttle waiting for when the job was done, so the mercenaries agreed to let her get her things and meet up with them at another station on the way back to Bmyhad. Trunks bet Armada five betas that she wouldn't return. Turned out that he was wrong, as here she stood, already getting acquainted with their ship.

 

After taking the grand tour, Laiserta offered to cook dinner for them. Trunks agreed because he was tired of doing all the cooking and, he was willing to take the chance that whatever she made would be better than the tasteless gruel Armada cooked. _If you could call that cooking_ , he thought with a shudder. He sat next to Armada at the table in the lounge while Laiserta cooked. His partner was engrossed in her laptop computer, doing what, he didn't know. She didn't bother to look up when Laiserta finally did emerge from the galley, three bowls in hand.

 

“Here you go,” she said as she set down each bowl in front of her two new teammates. She then sat down on the end, around the corner from Trunks to his right. “You guys didn't have much to choose from, so it turned out kind of iffy,” Laiserta said, shaking her right hand around in the air as she spoke to emphasize her words.

 

Trunks took a tentative bite and after a few seconds his face relaxed into happy shock. “Wow, this is really good!” he said with a mouthful of food.

 

“Thanks,” Laiserta replied with a smirk. “I'm not the best chef in the universe, but I'm pretty damn good,” she added with a broad smile.

 

The trio ate quickly, in relative silence as they enjoyed their meal. For the first time in a while, Trunks could actually say he did _enjoy_ his food. It was delicious. When they were finished, Laiserta cleared the table for them and brought some water back from the galley. Armada picked up her laptop and left the lounge. “Where'd you learn to cook like that?” he asked before taking a sip from his water bottle.

 

“Just got sick of eating out all the time,” Laiserta said, leaning back in her seat and clasping her hands behind her head. “Thought I would try to do something myself and it just stuck. It's fun,” she admitted with a slight smile.

 

Another question came to Trunks. “So since you like to cook and eat all the time,” he started, “that means you're not some kind of advanced android, right?”

 

“Hah!” Laiserta laughed, lunging forward and wrapping her hands around her abdomen, “me, a robot? That's a first, never been called an android before,” she elaborated. “Usually the first thing that people say is 'demon,'” she added with a wide smile.

 

Trunks tried to think about how to phrase what was really bothering him about her. “So if you're not an android, why do you feel mostly...?” he trailed off as he searched for the right word.

 

“Dead?” Laiserta supplied. Trunks's eyes widened in surprise, but she cut him off before he could speak to explain. “I get that a lot from you people,” she said, and Trunks raised an eyebrow at her. “Energy fighters,” she clarified. “The good ones can sense people's life energy, right? And the _really_ good ones can pick out Minovsky generators,” she added, taking a moment to motion toward the bridge with her head, the last place she had seen Armada head off to.

 

“Anyway,” Laiserta sat up and set her elbows on the table, leaning in toward Trunks, “life energy is mostly stored in the muscles. The reason you sense me as mostly dead is because ninety-seven-point-six percent of my skeletal muscle has been replaced with a synthetic material that is not capable of storing life energy,” she explained in one long breath. She almost sounded like she was reading a brochure or advertisement for a product, but without the enthusiasm of a salesperson.

 

“You have synthetic muscles?” Trunks asked, a sick feeling rising in his stomach. “So are you some kind of cyborg?” he asked, keeping his emotions guarded.

 

“Gods, no,” Laiserta sat back and shook her head. “At least I don't think so.” She paused a moment and thought, then decided to just lay all of her cards on the table. “Long story short,” she started, “I got this shit when I was a kid. I didn't ask for it,” she explained, not sounding particularly distressed. “So I'm strong like you but I don't use energy to do it,” she continued. “The material that makes up my synthetic muscles is about seven to eight times more dense than regular organic muscle fiber. As a result, I weigh about seven to eight times the normal weight for someone my size,” she lifted her right arm and flexed to show off her biceps, “who's also as cut as I am,” she smirked.

 

There was quite a lot about what Laiserta just said that didn't make sense to Trunks. How did her brain know how to communicate to these synthetic muscles? How were they implanted when she was a kid when she wouldn't be done growing? And she _didn't ask for them_? He thought he was keeping his emotions in check, but Laiserta must have seen through the facade.

 

“Doesn't make any sense, right?” she asked, the vestiges of a smirk still hanging on to her face. “I don't know how it all works myself,” her gaze fell and she laughed darkly. “Maybe one day I'll tell you the rest,” she said and smiled ruefully to herself.

 

Watching Laiserta, she didn't have the same aura around her that his comrade did. She seemed more... normal. _Wait_ , he thought, _they are both my comrades now, right?_ He didn't think she was lying about anything she had just told him, but he knew he wasn't getting the full story either. He didn't want to pry though, Laiserta seemed like the type that if he let her, she'd tell him everything in due time. Sure he was curious, but it wasn't something that would keep him up at night.

 

“Anyway, what's your deal?” Laiserta asked, dragging Trunks out his thoughts.

 

“Huh?” was all he managed to say in response to her query; his brain hadn't switched gears fast enough to form a proper response.

 

“Energy fighter, covered in battle scars, hanging out with spider-head, I'm sure you've got a story,” Laiserta blurted out. She could certainly speak quickly when she wanted to. “She's pretty infamous you know, I'm still shocked someone's traveling with her. What's with that, anyway? Where'd she pick you up?” she asked, her face showing genuine curiosity.

 

Trunks blinked; Laiserta had spouted off so many things he didn't know where to start. _'Spider-head?'_ he thought incredulously. Was she talking about Armada? _And Armada is 'infamous;'_ _how infamous?_ he wondered. But someone else nagged at him until he finally spoke. “Wait, 'covered in battle scars?'” he repeated her words back to her, his eyebrows coming together in confusion.

 

“Oh,” Laiserta snapped with the fingers of her right hand, “right, I forgot about the eyes.” Trunks opened his mouth to reply, but she kept talking at the speed of light. “Got my eyes the same place I got my muscles,” she she leaned over the table again, “that's why they're red, they're synthetic too. With these, I can see...” she trailed off, her eyes looking up as she thought about what words she wanted to use. “Well not everything,” she finally settled on something, “but many different things. I have a bunch of different modes of sight, and one that includes the ability to see through stuff, like people's clothes.”

 

Trunks stared at her for a moment, scrutinizing her face for any sign that she was joking. Laiserta cracked a wide smile and laughed lowly, “You're thinking I'm messing with you. Let's see,” she said and stared at him, starting at his chest. “You're pretty cut but a lot of you energy fighters are,” she started, her voice trailing off as her eyes trailed downward. “And you're a pretty good looking guy,” she continued, but after a quick pause she clicked her tongue. “Ah, that's it,” she said, looking down toward his lower torso. “You've got a nasty scar on the inside of your left hip, not far from your—”

 

Trunks didn't hear what she said as the memory of how exactly he got that scar bubbled up. It was one of his last fights with the androids before he went back to the past the second time. Eighteen had snatched his sword from him momentarily and swung it at him wildly. He got too close in an attempt to take it back and she had managed to slash him vertically there. After he escaped from the fight, with his sword, he had to stitch it up himself. He stood in the shower down the hall from his room, trying to hold the wound closed with his left hand while he worked with his right. The cut was too close to _that_ and he didn't have the nerve to ask his mother to help him. Which is why it didn't heal well, he wasn't able to close the wound very nicely.

 

“In the grand scheme of things,” Laiserta continued—apparently she never stopped talking while he'd tuned her out, “you don't have _anything_ to worry about,” she laughed and smirked at him darkly.

 

Trunks's fists involuntarily clenched and he scowled in anger. Was she really looking at him like that? He didn't need confirmation though, she'd already given it when she mentioned that particular scar. He thought Armada was bad, but she'd never said or done anything so downright _disgusting_ to him. For lack of a better word, he felt violated.

 

Without saying anything, he got up from the table and stormed out of the lounge. “No point in running away,” he heard Laiserta shout after him while laughing uproariously. “I can see you anywhere in the ship!”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Once they had arrived back in Bmyhad, the first thing Laiserta did was run off to get groceries. ' _You guys need some better quality stuff,_ ' she'd explained before disappearing. After their conversation yesterday, Trunks hadn't said much of anything to her. He already hated these dragged out trips through space, so he just stayed holed up in his room as much as he could. With the three rooms of the barracks, Laiserta had taken the only empty room, so the three of them were separated from each other. Which made it easy to get away from either or both of them if Trunks felt the need.

 

When Laiserta returned, dragging in twelve full bags of groceries that she flung around like they weighed nothing, she headed straight for the galley to put everything away. Trunks was sitting in the bridge with Armada, so Laiserta started yelling through the ship to them. “About time we get some decent ingredients,” she shouted, and Trunks couldn't help but roll his eyes.

 

“Hey,” Armada said lowly, not taking her eyes away from the ship's diagnostics on the monitor in front of her.

 

“What?” Trunks asked, turning to look at her.

 

Armada didn't turn to face him, but her eyes darted to the right so she could see him. “Remember the Taydran spy,” she said, waiting to see his acknowledgment.

 

At first Trunks thought she was asking a question, but her tone indicated otherwise. She turned her attention back to what she was doing, and realization dawned upon him. Nassas Reine, the Taydran spy—she was trying to tell Trunks to ignore Laiserta because she was only messing with him. Trunks scoffed and smiled ruefully to himself; Armada was right. And now that he thought about, Laiserta reminded him of the spy. Armada didn't know what Laiserta had said to Trunks, but she didn't need to because it didn't matter. Surprisingly, he felt a little better from just that one comment.

 

Several minutes later, Laiserta sauntered into the bridge. “Check this out,” she said, holding up what Trunks thought looked like a phone. “I got a job offer,” she finished with a wide grin. She looked at the monitors in the bridge, “You got anyway for me to throw this up on the big screen?”

 

Armada spun around in her chair and took Laiserta's phone from her hands. “I'll join it to the ship's network so you can share data,” she said, quickly typing away in Laiserta's phone. After about thirty seconds, she handed the phone back to Laiserta and the black haired woman looked up at the ship's monitors, which changed to display the same thing she was looking at on her phone.

 

“All right,” Laiserta remarked excitedly, grinning widely. “So,” she started, controlling the display on the ship's main console from her phone, “about three weeks ago the Mannino cartel had the misfortune of having one of their shipments seized by Hrimth police on a random search.” The display switched to a few news articles about the seizure. “Typically they pay off someone locally to keep these types of random searches from happening, but apparently the guy they bought called in sick that day,” Laiserta said with a laugh. “Whoops,” she added and looked briefly at Trunks.

 

“Taydran police seize shipments like this all the time,” Armada said before turning around to look at Laiserta. “What's so special about this one?”

 

“Well, they had a prototype VI chip on board that the Orelnenns had stolen for them,” Laiserta replied, looking down at her phone to change the display once more,to show details about the processor she had just mentioned.

 

“Wait,” Trunks looked at Armada and then Laiserta, “the Orelnenn family? The same one from Bmyhad?” he asked, slightly surprised.

 

“Yep,” Laiserta replied.

 

“The Mannino cartel is a very large criminal enterprise,” Armada cut in, facing her comrade. “One of the reasons they've been so successful is that they build alliances with and recruit smaller criminal organizations like the Orelnenns to work for them,” she explained in a cool tone.

 

“Well they're not as big as Toltus or Rieve,” Laiserta interjected with a slight shrug of her shoulders, “but they're a decently sized group. They mostly focus on peddling drugs and other illegal items. They're not as into violence as some of the other ones.”

 

“The VI processor,” Armada spoke up again, “is it legal?” She studied the schematics on the monitor in front of her.

 

“Nope,” Laiserta drawled, her mouth settling into a smirk.

 

“What's a 'VI?'” Trunks broke in, wanting to understand exactly what they were talking about.

 

“Virtual intelligence,” Armada answered before Laiserta had a chance to say anything. “Research on artificial intelligence has been banned for centuries, until recently. Some of those laws were relaxed with specific provisions limiting what an artificial intelligence could do. This limited version of AI began to be referred to as 'virtual intelligence,'” she finished, glancing at her partner once more.

 

“Apparently this chip does more than it's legally allowed to do, but that's exactly why the Orelnenns stole it,” Laiserta explained. “Anyway,” she continued. “The rest of the crap on their shipment the Manninos can chalk up to the cost of doing business, but the chip,” her voice trailed off at a higher octave.

 

“It's one of a kind,” Armada filled in the blank of Laiserta's lost words.

 

“Yeah they can't exactly replace it,” Laiserta added, shifting her weight on her feet. “So they want it back, which is what the job is for,” the mercenary continued, her eyes focusing on her phone so she could switch the display again to a schematic drawing of a high rise building. “Hrimth police were the ones to bust the cartel,so everything is in their lockup at police headquarters in downtown Hrimth,” Laiserta looked back up the ship's main monitors as she spoke.

 

She continued, “There's currently a pissing match going on between local police and the military who handles police-work at the federal level in Taydr. So the military is trying to get their hands on the seized goods, especially since they know about the processor, and local police have told them in no uncertain terms to fuck off. But the feds always get what they want, even if it takes some extra time,” she explained. “So the cartel estimates there's only about a week left before everything goes into the military's custody and once that happens, _nobody_ is getting that chip back,” she stressed, looking between Trunks and Armada.

 

“So the building is surrounded with a Minovsky field?” Armada asked, studying the building blueprints on the screen in front of her.

 

“Sort of,” Laiserta shrugged slightly, “it's actually a Minovsky frame. The intel the Mannino cartel sent us says it's a Minovsky field, but they're wrong.”

 

Armada turned in her chair to look at Laiserta. “How do you know that?” she asked, casting her new comrade with a look of suspicion.

 

Laiserta smirked and laughed lightly, “'Cause I've seen it. I can see Minovsky fields, among other things,” she added. “And this building is only a couple of _ruon_ from my home, so I've seen it plenty of times.”

 

“You live in Hrimth?” Trunks asked. He was familiar with Hrimth, if only in passing, as it was the city where he and Armada had turned over Nassas Reine and were shot at in the process. He expected and dreaded what was coming next.

 

“Yeah, not that I'm home that often,” Laiserta replied. She smirked, “I was born and raised there, guess I couldn't stay away.” Trunks didn't reply to Laiserta, but he wondered if all Taydrans were as annoying as the spy and his new comrade. Now that he looked though, they both had a similar skin tone and black hair, or at least from what he remembered of the spy; it had been a couple of months since Trunks saw him.

 

“I've never seen a Minovsky frame before,” Armada interjected into her comrades' conversation. “How does it work?” she asked flatly, turning to Laiserta.

 

“Think of it as a Minovsky generator built into the frame of the building,” Laiserta replied, using her phone to zoom in on one particular engineering drawing of the building. “To turn it off you'd have to cut power to the entire city block, but that only lasts a few seconds before the generator kicks on and you're back where you started. So,” she looked pointedly at Armada and Trunks, “you two won't be able to use any of your fancy tricks on this one.”

 

“Do you have a plan?” Armada asked flatly, but Trunks thought he heard a little distrust in her tone.

 

“Of course I have a plan,” Laiserta said smoothly. “I'll take point on infiltrating the facility and picking up the processor. I need you two to provide backup,” she said pointedly, and glanced between the two of them yet again. “The building is forty-two stories tall, and the highest floors are various offices for support staff. On the fortieth floor,” Laiserta said and the images on the ship's main monitor zoomed into the area she was talking about, “is where the infrastructure and information security groups sit. I'll need you two to get in there and disable specific security cameras and sensors along my path as I work to get to the evidence lockup. Once I get the chip, you guys will continue to provide support on my way out. Once I'm clear from the building, you two make your escape. We'll go in just after midnight and should be out within an hour,” Laiserta finished her explanation of her plan.

 

“If the building is surrounded by a Minovsky field, how do you expect us to get to the fortieth floor?” Armada asked, and this time Trunks was _certain_ that her tone of voice indicated she wasn't buying what Laiserta was selling.

 

“The Minovsky frame only extends out about a meter from the outside of the building on all sides,” she replied. “You guys can fly up to the roof and just drop in. Roof access isn't as heavily guarded,so all you have to do is hack the access panel on the outside door, and avoid the _one_ camera that's up there,” she stated. “From there, you head down to floor forty and find a workstation you can hack and use to control the security system. Easy,” Laiserta said with a grin.

 

Armada looked at Laiserta and thought for a moment. “How much are they paying and when do you think we should do this?”

 

Without missing a beat, Laiserta replied “One-point-eight-two million betas and four nights from now. It'll be a weeknight in Taydr which will mean fewer police in the building during the night shift when we'll make our move.”

 

Armada nodded in response. “Good. Tell the cartel we'll take the job,” she said flatly and stood up from her chair. “We'll leave in an hour, so if there's anything else either of you need, now's the time to go and get it.” With that, she headed back toward the cargo bay.

 

There was one thing about this whole plan that was bothering Trunks. He knew that they had yet to go over the finer details, but he couldn't help but wonder, “How are you going to stay undetected?” He turned to Laiserta as he voiced his thoughts aloud.

 

The Taydran smirked. “I might not be an energy fighter, but I have my own fancy tricks,” she replied excitedly. “You'll see soon enough,” she added with mirth.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Hamad Gen sighed as his eyes and mouth fell into flat lines, indicating his annoyance at his current situation.

 

“Don't give me attitude, sir,” Priya replied as she adjusted his cravat. His assistant gave one last yank before tucking the bottom of the cravat in again into his vest. “I'm only doing my job,” she said with a sly smile as she looked up at him.

 

“I'm well aware,” Hamad replied, taking a step back from her and looking into the mirror behind her. “Traditional Taydran garb is quite,” he paused for a moment, searching for the right word. “Exhausting,” he finally settled on. The long, ornate white coat he wore over a dark purple vest and two different shirts was tailored nicely to his frame, but with all the layers it was hot and hard to move. If nothing else, at least his nation's colors complemented his black hair and green eyes well. Not that Hamad was vain, but his appearance had to be immaculate at all times. Part of the job, he supposed.

 

“Well that's part of the job,” Priya replied, barely containing the laughter in her voice. Hamad wanted to laugh at how her words mirrored his thoughts so well. “You can't just wear a suit all of the time,” she added with mirth.

 

The pair was was interrupted when the door to Hamad's office opened and one of his other assistants, Sayid stepped in. “We have to leave in fifteen minutes sir,” he stated upon entering. “The car is downstairs and ready to take you to the space port. The diversionary convoy just left, so we can't leave too late behind them,” he added, looking down at his watch.

 

“Priya, you have the itinerary?” Hamad turned and asked the dark-haired woman.

 

“Yes sir,” she nodded, walking over to a nearby chair to pick up her tablet.

 

Before Hamad could say anything else, the phone on his desk rang. He glanced at it and then turned back to his two assistants. “I'll take this call and then meet you downstairs,” he stated with authority.

 

“Yes sir,” both Sayid and Priya replied in unison before turning and heading out, with Priya closing the door behind them.

 

Hamad strolled over to his overly ornate desk and leaned over the front to pick up his phone. “Hello?” he said upon lifting the receiver to his ear.

 

“ _The mighty prince still answers his own phone,”_ the other voice on the end said with sarcasm. “ _Shouldn't that be some kind of scandal that you don't have someone to do that for you?”_

 

“Ryan,” Hamad said jovially while letting out a breath, “how nice to speak to you.” He wasn't going to see Ryan Rieve again for a few more weeks yet, so the phone call was a pleasant surprise.

 

“ _Aren't you supposed to be at some fancy Alliance political summit?”_ Ryan teased. “ _Are you shirking your duties?”_

 

Hamad laughed. “No, I was just about to leave my office for that particular summit when you called. And it's hardly 'fancy,'” he added. “There will be all sorts of dry and boring trade negotiations between nations that neither of us care about,” he finished with a smirk. He paused a moment before continuing, “But surely you didn't call just to speak about that.”

 

“ _No,”_ Ryan replied, his voice dropping significantly. Hamad felt his stomach twist into knots at the sound. “ _It's the mercenary,”_ he added and immediately Hamad knew who he was speaking of.

 

“I thought you had your people working on that?” the prince questioned, truly curious.

 

“ _I do,”_ the mob boss replied. Hamad almost thought he heard a sigh in the background. “ _We have reason to believe that somehow she's managed to kill Corvus,”_ he finally said, the weight in his voice not going unnoticed by Hamad.

 

“Ryan I'm so sorry,” Hamad immediately replied, truly sorry for his friend's loss. “I know Corvus was your best friend for many years, and I'm very sorry for your loss,” he added with deep sympathy. How he wished he could drop everything and go to Ryan now to provide some sense of comfort, but his duties did not permit that.

 

“ _For fifteen years,”_ Ryan said softly. “ _Regardless, I need you to get your people on this as well. But I don't want a repeat of what happened in Hrimth,”_ he snapped, clearly agitated.

 

“To be fair,” Hamad began, “they didn't know who was delivering our asset back to us until they had viewed the security footage from Ute. Even then,” he continued calmly, “they only made the attempt to capture her because she's wanted by the Alliance. They had no orders for capture for our nation's interests,” he finished.

 

“However,” the Taydran prince continued, not giving Rieve a chance to respond, “I will get someone down in TSIA on it right away.”

 

“ _Good. I need her alive,_ _so make sure they know that.”_ There was a brief moment of silence in the conversation. “ _Don't forget that she hasn't only interrupted my operation, but yours as well,”_ Ryan replied, the anger evident in his voice, though Hamad wasn't sure where it was directed.

 

“I know,” he replied flatly. That... was something he tried not to think about. Organizing the purchase of those weapons, well... he didn't agree with it, but orders from the emperor himself were absolute. Perhaps Hamad would have pushed back more if the man wasn't also his father, but it was far too late for those regrets now. Then again, he never would have met Ryan... Hamad shook those thoughts of his head. He had far too many other things that he needed to focus on right now.

 

“I am truly sorry about Corvus,” Hamad continued, glancing at a clock on the far wall of his office, “and I wish I could talk more, but I need to be on my way.”

 

“ _Understood,”_ Ryan replied coolly. “ _Let me know when you get your people moving on this so I can make sure my guys don't get in their way,”_ he ordered, but Hamad was used to his tone and took no offense.

 

“Certainly,” the prince nodded to himself. “Goodbye Ryan,” he forced himself to say with as little emotion as possible, quite a task considering what he'd just learned. His heart ached that Ryan was going through such a trying time, but there was nothing he could do at the moment.

 

“ _Later,”_ was Ryan's quick reply before hanging up. Hamad set the phone back down on the receiver and let out a deep breath. Back to the daily grind of running a nation it was, and he made his way out of his office.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Once the group reached Taydr, Laiserta directed them where to land and stash the ship. She  apparently had friends who had owed her favors. During the trip, they were able to purchase complete building schematics from a hacker and used that information to devise their plan, so they were ready to go several hours after they'd landed. Trunks waited in the bridge with Armada for their other comrade to emerge from the barracks so they could head out. Armada was wearing her armor, but per her instructions neither Trunks nor Armada carried any weapons. They would too conspicuous while heading for the building on foot, she'd explained. Based on the plan, Trunks didn't feel worried. But so far they had a bad track record for these things, so he wished he had his sword with him.

 

Tired of standing around and waiting, Trunks looked to Armada and spoke. “So, where are we at, resource-wise?” he asked.

 

She looked at him and seemed confused for a moment before she realized what he was asking. “Two-point-three-nine million,” Armada answered. “Our share of this job will put us over three million,” she elaborated.

 

A thought struck him at her answer. “What do we do when we hit four?” he asked, recalling that was her threshold for them to start preparing to attack Rieve. “Do we leave Bmyhad?” He paused a moment. “Do we tell her?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the barracks.

 

“We'll worry about developing a plan once we have enough money to do anything,” Armada answered. “And yes, we'll tell Laiserta,” she shifted her weight on her feet, “when we think we can trust her. And we won't leave Bmyhad until we've lost all tactical advantage from staying there, which hasn't happened yet,” Armada finished. Trunks was a little surprised, as it seemed like Armada had answered his questions honestly. He opened his mouth to continue their conversation but was cut off by their Taydran comrade.

 

“Yo,” Laiserta called out as she walked into the bridge. Trunks turned to look at her and she stopped a meter away from him. “How do I look?” she asked with a smirk, waving her right hand out. She was wearing a black body suit, not unlike what she'd worn so far, but this one was a bit different. It was more dull, and had a texture that reminded Trunks of the piece of carbon fiber his mother had once showed him. The suit also stretched up to her face, with pieces covering the sides of her jaw and head up to her hairline. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid and without her glasses it was much easier for him to see her eerie red eyes.

 

“Uhh, okay I guess?” Trunks answered her, his face twisting up into confusion. He wasn't exactly sure what was so special about the new suit. He spared a quick glance to Armada who seemed just as confused as he was.

 

“Tch, amateurs,” Laiserta chided them, settling her right hand onto her hip. “Don't you recognize active-camouflage material when you see it?”

 

Trunks's eyebrows rose but before he had a chance to speak, Laiserta cut him off. “Watch this,” she said with a smirk. The dark mercenary held up her left wrist and pressed down on the inside of it with her right hand. Immediately several glowing white lines appeared over her face, stretching outward from the fabric of her suit and created the frame of a visor. The area around the glowing frame filled in and Laiserta smirked at Trunks's shocked face.

 

“Whoa,” he couldn't help saying. He'd seen some crazy technology in his time, considering who his mother was and exactly what she had invented, but a physical piece of equipment seemed to materialize out of nothing. That was certainly new to him.

 

“How's that going to help us?” Armada broke in, her eyebrows pulled together in what Trunks would characterize as a stern curiosity.

 

“I'm not done,” Laiserta crooned in a lyrical tone. She pressed again on the inside of her left wrist and in a quick moment she faded away from sight.

 

Armada's eyes widened in shock and Trunks jumped back a half step with another “Whoa!”

 

“See?” Laiserta said, waving her arms out to her sides, “told you I had some tricks of my own.”

 

“You're not completely invisible,” Armada stated evenly, “but enough that if you keep moving you wouldn't be noticed.”

 

“That's part of how it works,” Laiserta replied. “It's easier to spot the visual distortion when I'm standing still. It's much harder for the eye to follow when I'm in motion,” she finished and pressed on her left wrist again, causing the active-camouflage to dissipate.

 

“That's why you need us to disable security devices,” Trunks summarized. “Because even if people inside the building can't see you, other systems can detect you.”

 

“Now you're learning,” Laiserta chastised him with a wide grin. “All right, let's get this show on the road,” she turned toward to leave the bridge.

 

“Wait,” Armada said, “there's one more thing.” She turned and picked up something from the top of the console at the bridge and then returned to her comrades, holding out her right hand with the palm up. In her hand were three tiny beige circular pieces of plastic, the size of small pills. “We'll need radios to stay in contact with each other,” she continued. “They'll pick up and broadcast anything you say. The signal is encrypted, but keep conversations to a minimum. While the Hrimth police won't be able to listen in, if we generate too much traffic over the radio they'll see that there's an unknown encrypted signal broadcasting within their building. We don't want to get their attention,” Armada finished.

 

Trunks reached over and picked up one of the radios, examining it closely. It was so tiny, he found it hard to believe that this would pick up his voice as well as play back the voices of his comrades at a volume he could hear. He looked back up to Armada who was peeling thin sheet of plastic off of the back of her radio. She then proceeded to stick the radio on the inside of her ear. He quickly followed her example and did the same.

 

“Can you guys hear me okay?” Laiserta quietly asked after she too had placed her radio in ear.

 

“Yeah,” Trunks answered. Laiserta's voice was surprisingly crisp and clear.

 

Armada glanced between her two comrades before addressing them, “Let's move out.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

It only took a few minutes for Trunks and Armada to navigate the dark streets of Hrimth and reach their destination. It was just after midnight and a light rain was coming down, but the weather wasn't particularly cold. Once they reached police headquarters, the pair flew up into the sky near the building, but not too close to avoid the Minovsky field surrounding it. Once they were above the building, the pair floated down toward the roof. Just as Laiserta had said, the field stretched out from the building about a meter. So when they entered the Minovsky field the two mercenaries fell the rest of the distance, but easily landed on their feet. With feet on the ground, they walked along the edge of the roof behind some ventilation structures until they reached the door into the building.

 

Armada had brought the small computer with her they had used to hack into the space-station-mansion just over a week ago, when they had met Laiserta. Using programs she had purchased from hackers online, because she had explained to Trunks previously she was not a hacker herself so she had to buy the tools she needed, Armada set about disabling the one security camera watching the door on the roof. They stood just around the corner, underneath the camera in a blind spot. It only took a few minutes to disable the camera and the door, and suddenly they were inside.

 

The pair made their way down a few flights of stairs to the fortieth floor. Following the floor plans they had studied, they made their way to the area of offices where the network and infrastructure group sat. None of the rooms were locked and there were only a few cameras to avoid, so making it to their destination was also relatively easy. Once inside the right area, it was an easy task to sit down at one terminal in a small sea of cubicles and get to work.

 

Armada connected her small portable computer to the terminal in question and within moments she had access to everything. Trunks stood to her side, leaned forward and propping himself up with his hands on the desk. In the time it took them to get into position, Laiserta had already made her way into the building, and was waiting at her first “checkpoint” for her comrades to help her get through the first area of trouble. Many of the sensors Laiserta needed help avoiding would detect her unusual weight, something she couldn't hide with camouflage. Others would detect body heat and density, all things that couldn't be masked. Regardless, while her movement was slow, Laiserta's comrades had soon enough helped her navigate all the way to the evidence locker.

 

Once Armada unlocked the door, Laiserta pushed open the entrance to the cage that held the Mannino cartel's possessions. “I'm in,” she said quietly. Instead of wasting time with a physical search, Laiserta scanned everything with her eyes until she saw a small box that caught her attention. It had a special shielding that she couldn't see through, and she smirked. Making her way over to the area, she dug through another crate until she found the box in question. Opening it up, she saw exactly what she suspected. “I've got it,” she whispered into her radio, taking the chip out of the box and placing it into a small anti-static bag. She stuffed the bag into a pocket on her left hip, effectively hiding the item behind her active-camouflage suit.

 

Upstairs both of Laiserta's comrades had received her message that she had the item in question. “Halfway done,” Armada whispered to Trunks. He smiled to himself; things were going smoothly so far on this operation and soon enough Laiserta would be out and they would leave. Suddenly Trunks thought he heard something in the distance and looked up toward the door on the other side of the room from where they were.

 

“What's wrong?” Armada asked, noticing his sudden movement.

 

“I think someone's coming,” Trunks replied while still keeping his eyes glued on the door. As soon as the words left his mouth, the door burst open and several officers poured in.

 

“Shit!” Armada cursed, disconnecting her computer from the workstation at the desk and hooking it back onto her belt.

 

“ _What's going on?”_ Trunks heard Laiserta ask over the radio, but there was no time to answer her as at least a dozen officers were running across the office toward them.

 

The door to this area of the offices was about thirty meters away, so the two mercenaries had a few seconds before the officers were on them. “They're not armed,” Armada assessed quickly, noticing that none of them were carrying guns. It wasn't a shock to see that, considering Laiserta had told them that officers had to check and lock their weapons when in the building, however they did carry batons and other physical weapons that weren't firearms. “They can't all attack us at once so split up and take them out,” she said and immediately ran to the right toward an open aisle between the cubicles. She then sprinted straight toward the officers, intent on meeting them in that same aisle.

 

Trunks stepped out into the passage to the left of the terminal they'd been working at, and fell back into a defensive stance. He realized Armada was right to try and fight them in the aisles, as only two police officers could approach him at once. As soon as they were within striking distance, one officer swung at Trunks with his right fist. Trunks easily blocked his punch and pushed it away with his left forearm, and countered with his own right fist into the guy's face. The other officer then swung at Trunks, who couldn't block the punch since he was turned away from the other policeman. So Trunks leaned back to avoid the hit, and countered by raising his right foot and kicking the man straight in the center of his abdomen. The officer was knocked back and fell into the officer behind him.

 

The first officer that Trunks had punched now pulled out a baton and swung at Trunks's head. The demi-Saiyan stumbled backwards while avoiding the hit and lost his balance for a moment. Another officer pushed forward and was able to punch Trunks in the face. The officer tried to follow up by throwing his elbow at Trunks's sternum, but Trunks was able to recover and catch his arm. With the officer in his grasp, Trunks turned and threw the officer into a cubicle where the man crashed into a desk and fell to the floor.

 

Before Trunks could turn and look at the remaining officers, the one with the baton swung it again and smacked Trunks across the left side of his jaw with the weapon. It was a punishing blow and Trunks could immediately taste blood in his mouth as a result. The officer swung again, but this time Trunks made an effort to catch the baton. After successfully catching the weapon in both hands, Trunks yanked it backwards and twisted, causing the officer to cry out as his wrist twisted unnaturally, and he let go.

 

With no time to switch his hands around andgrabthe baton by the handle, Trunks shoved it at the second officer, ramming it into his chest three times in succession and knocking the wind out of him. Trunks followed up by smacking this officer across the face with the baton, and the man fell to the floor. The officer he'd taken the baton from attempted to grab it. Instead of keeping it away, Trunks let him grab it and held on. The mercenary let go of the baton with his right hand and pulled it back toward him with his left, dragging the officer forward and proceeding to punch him several times in the face with his right fist. Trunks then kicked the officer in the side with his right leg, causing him to finally let go of the baton and fall over into the wall of a cubicle.

 

With the three men down, one more officer was running down the aisle toward Trunks. The demi-Saiyan readied himself to fight as the man approached, when suddenly the officer arched his back and appeared stunned before falling to the ground. Behind him stood Armada, with a shock rod outstretched in her hand. “Let's get out of here,” she said in a rush, before turning and running for the door. He follow after her, and once they'd cleared the rows of cubicles Trunks nearly choked at what he saw. There were at least ten officers lying on the ground in various states of consciousness, though none of them dead. In the time it took him to deal with three policemen, she'd taken out all the rest?

 

Just before they reached the door, another group of officers burst in, and both Trunks and Armada froze. This group was armed and had guns pointed at the pair, at least eight officers by the time they'd all gotten inside. Armada dropped her shock rod and raised her hands, and Trunks did the same. On a normal day, sure, handling someone with a gun was no big deal. But inside a Minovsky field where Trunks was no stronger than a normal person, there wasn't anything he could do. A gunshot could kill him the same as anyone else.

 

There was nothing they could do at this point, except surrender to avoid being riddled with bullets.   _So much for the job going smoothly,_ Trunks thought.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Had to break up this chapter into two parts because it turned out so long!  Please let me know what you think, good or bad.  Thanks for reading.  

 

-Silvia


	14. Mission 08:  Prototype [Part II]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being captured in police headquarters in Hrimth, Trunks and Armada can only sit and wait, hoping that their comrade Laiserta comes to their rescue.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 08: Prototype [Part II]

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks and Armada ran for the door.  Unfortunately a second wave of police officers came through the other side first, and the mercenaries stopped in their tracks.  The officers had their guns raised and pointed at the two intruders.  Armada raised her hands, subsequently dropping the shock rod she carried.  Trunks copied her maneuver, assuming that surrender was their best option at this point.  Standing within a Minovsky field that blocked the use of their ki, neither he nor his partner stood a chance against eight trained officers with guns.

 

A ninth officer walked into the room who carried himself a little differently from the rest. “Cuff them,” he shouted, and two officers approached each mercenary to pull their hands behind their backs and restrain them with handcuffs. The officers then forced the mercenaries to kneel while they proceeded to pat down their detainees.

 

“No weapons,” one of the officers announced who had quickly searched Armada. He did hold up the small computer she had attached to her belt. “But looks like she has some kind electronic device,” he added.

 

“No weapons here either,” one said who had quickly searched Trunks. “What do you want us to do, captain?”

 

The 'captain' scrutinized Trunks and then Armada with his sharp green eyes. He glanced around the room quickly before looking back at the two of them. “Scan them,” he said before turning to one officer in particular.

 

“Uh, yes sir!” the officer he'd looked to replied. He walked over toward Armada and pulled a small handheld device off of the side of his belt. Trunks watched as a few seconds later, the device beeped. The officer turned to the captain and spoke, “She's a class B, sir.”

 

“I knew it,” the captain said more to himself than anyone else, narrowing his eyes. “Sergeant,” he turned to another officer, “get two pairs of AEM cuffs up here now.”

 

“Yes sir!” the sergeant replied and turned away from the group, lifting up a radio and speaking into it.

 

“Captain Voss, sir,” another officer spoke and stepped toward the captain. “Is that necessary?” he asked, and immediately Trunks could see from the captain's face that this man was about to draw his ire. “The building's protected by a Minovsky field,” he finished.

 

“Clearly you've never dealt with an energy fighter before,” Voss replied, his black eyebrows pulling together in anger. “If this building loses power for a moment that Minovsky field will fall for a few seconds before the generators kick on,” Voss lectured. “A few seconds is all that someone like that needs to kill us all,” he finished, slightly motioning his head toward Armada.

 

In the time that conversation was going on, the officer who did the scan came over to Trunks and repeated the procedure. “He's class B too, sir,” the officer said, turning toward Captain Voss.

 

Just then, another officer walked into the room carrying a pair of large metal gauntlets. Trunks assumed these were the AEM cuffs they were referring to, though they looked different fromthe pair he had seen on Armada when she was ambushed at the hangar in Ute and badly beaten. Hopefully these didn't have those same metal hooks in them, but he wouldn't know until they tried to put the cuffs on him.

 

Captain Voss turned to the officer who had just arrived and gave the man a stern look. “I said two pairs, didn't I?” he stated more than asked.

 

“Yes sir, but all of our extra AEM cuffs were confiscated by the military three weeks ago,” the officer answered. “We only have this one pair out of luck, they came with a prisoner during a transfer last week,” he finished.

 

Voss seemed to think for a moment as his mouth twisted up a little. “Fine. Split the difference, put one cuff on each of them,” he ordered and the soldier carrying the restraints moved toward the pair of mercenaries.

 

“Sir,” the same officer who had questioned the reasoning behind retrieving AEM cuffs in the first place addressed the captain, “if you do that there won't be a complete circuit.”

 

“I know that lieutenant,” Voss bit back. “Do you have a better idea?” he asked, clearly irritated with this particular lieutenant.

 

“No sir,” the officer quickly replied and ducked his head.

 

Trunks was only about two meters away from Armada, but that wasn't close enough to cuff the two of them together. The officers standing near them made the two of them stand and approach the officer carrying the AEM cuffs. Trunks was initially standing to Armada's left, but as they were moved around he ended up on her right. With guns pointed at them, their handcuffs were removed and one side of the AEM cuffs were clamped down on Armada's right arm while the other side was clamped down on Trunks's left. He didn't notice any kind of mechanism on the inside of the restraints that looked like it could hide metal hooks, but he didn't get a great look at it, either. The handcuffs they were initially wearing were again placed around both of their wrists, so they were both restrained and then cuffed to one another. The metal cable running between the AEM cuffs was about eight inches long, so the two of them had to walk shoulder-to-shoulder as the officers escorted them out of the offices and toward an elevator.

 

Several minutes later, a thick glass door slid shut in front of Trunks, leaving him and his comrade inside of a jail cell not unlike the one he'd seen in Ute. He watched as the officers walked away while Armada moved backwards and sat down. Trunks stumbled backward and had to lean over to keep from falling down completely. He glared at Armada, who realized that she'd forgotten they were chained together. She offered a lame “sorry” in response to his look.

 

He moved back and sat down next to her, both of them with their backs against the rear wall of the jail cell. “So what now?” he asked, turning to his left to look at his comrade.

 

“Lai,” Armada said, not bothering to look at Trunks. “We were busted upstairs and taken down to the third floor and placed in a jail cell. We'll need you to come get us so we can all get out of here,” she finished.

 

“ _Yeah I know,”_ Trunks heard Laiserta's voice say tiredly over the radio. “ _I saw them bring you down the elevator. I'm headed your way,_ _but it's a slow process because I have to take the time to scan for various sensors. You know, all the same shit you guys were helping out with before getting caught,”_ she laughed slightly at the end of her sentence.

 

Armada looked at Trunks. “So now we wait,” she said, answering his question before she'd spoken to Laiserta over the radio.

 

Trunks felt the sick feeling of nervousness creeping up from his stomach. There was something he wanted to ask Armada, but he wanted to be careful about how he phrased the question. “So,” he started slowly, “that captain said they were going to try and identify us on the way down here.” He paused for a moment. “They're not going to, take our DNA or anything, right?” he asked. Despite trying to play it off like a joke with a forced laugh, Trunks knew his attempt to hide his anxiety was pretty poor.

 

If Armada noticed, she made no mention of it. “No,” she said flatly, “they need special warrants to take someone's DNA. Which they won't get by the time Lai gets here,” she finished. She sounded pretty confident that they were going to get out of this mess. Though Trunks was optimistic as well—they seemed to find ways to screw up and then find even more miraculous ways out of the mess.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Have you heard from him lately?”

 

Bulma didn't bother to look up at Lowell as she was busy soldering cables to the ECU she pulled out of an old car. She was bored and wanted to reprogram it, so she needed to solder the wires for the connection to her computer, as they were different than those when it would sit in the car. She wanted to reprogram it to improve the performance. Because she wanted to drive a fast car. Bulma was in her late fifties but she wasn't dead, and she did still like to have fun. What was the point in being a genius if you never used it to build something _fun_?

 

“No,” Bulma said, still focused on her soldering. “Honestly I'm not that worried.”

 

“Really?” Lowell asked, his eyebrows raising. He had teal hair, a shade more green than Bulma's and a little darker that hung down past his shoulders. He kept the back in a loose ponytail, but two large swaths of hair trailed down the sides of his face. Lowell rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I know Trunks is strong,” he started, “but he's out running around god-knows-where. I thought you might be more concerned.”

 

Bulma finished her soldering and set her iron in its tray on her desk before turning to look at Lowell. “Don't confuse my lack of _worry_ for lack of concern,” she stressed. “Of course I'm concerned. I know he hasn't told me everything because he doesn't want me to worry. I've come to grips with the fact that I'm okay with that,” she said earnestly. “I know he's more than capable of taking care of himself and I'm just going to trust him,” she finished with a smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

 

“I understand,” Lowell said and pushed himself to a fully upright position from where he leaned against another of Bulma's workbenches in her lab. “It's been four months, I hope he gets to come home soon,” Lowell mused. Bulma smiled at Lowell before picking up her ECU combined with new cables and headed upstairs, Lowell following behind her.

 

Back on the first floor, Bulma made her way to the living room, setting the ECU down on the center coffee table next to the laptop she hadleft there earlier. Lowell took a seat in a reclining chair adjacent to the sofa where Bulma sat, and watched her work. She opened her laptop and brought it out of sleep mode, then proceeded to connect the new cables she had soldered to the ECU.

 

The sliding glass door in the kitchen behind Bulma was flung open with a level of force typically reserved for anger, and Neis came storming in. “Where is he?!” he immediately demanded, striding straight over to Bulma and Lowell.

 

Bulma shook her head in confusion. “Neis, what are you—?”

 

“Don't give me that crap, where is he?!” Neis demanded again, clearly upset. It was then that Mia ran into the kitchen from the backyard, yelling after him.

 

“Neis stop!” she shouted, clearly worried about what was happening.

 

“Okay, everyone calm down,” Lowell said, slowly standing from his seat.

 

“Shut your mouth old man, this doesn't concern you,” Neis spat angrily at Lowell, who in turn looked downright shocked.

 

“Hey!” Bulma shouted, standing up and turning around to face Neis. “You _will not_ speak like that to anyone in my household, do you understand?” she bit out with an authority that scared the other three occupants of her living room.

 

Neis hung his head briefly, looking away from her. “Sorry,” he said, taking in a slow breath. He stayed quiet a moment before looking back up at Bulma, his voice a much more normal volume the second time he tried to speak. “Where's Trunks? I need to talk to him,” he said, his voice still holding an edge to it that told Bulma something was still very wrong.

 

“He's out,” Bulma said, not bothering to tell Neis or Mia where her son was. The only person who knew was Lowell, and that was because... well... because he was Lowell. But this wasn't about her, so she pushed those thoughts aside.

 

“When's the bastard coming back?” Neis scowled as he asked the question. He had the distinct feeling that Bulma was hiding something from him.

 

“Neis please stop,” Mia said, pulling on his right arm to try and get him to follow her back outside the house. She seemed particularly distressed to Bulma's eyes.

 

“Neis,” Lowell barked out, “let's go.” He motioned with his hands toward the back door in the kitchen. “We're gonna go outside and have a conversation about this,” he said sternly while he headed for the glass doors. Neis still looked angry but reluctantly followed the older man.

 

Bulma turned to Mia and gave her a look that said 'spill.' Mia looked down at the floor and flushed; she wasn't sure where to start. “Um,” she started, continuing to stare at the ground as she reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “It was a while back, Trunks and I were outside, and um,” Mia sighed heavily, trying to find the words while her face burned red. “I... well, he...” she tried again, her voice wavering with her nerves.

 

Bulma could guess where this was going. She knew Mia well enough after nine years to know there was only one thing that would really get her so riled up that she couldn't speak— _Kami_ knew that Mia was not the strong silent type. “You made a move on him?” she asked, referring to her son. Mia's gaze shot up to Bulma who noticed that the girl looked absolutely mortified. “Oh don't give me that look,” Bulma said, tilting her head to the side slightly, “it's not like I had a problem with it. But I can guess it didn't go well,” she added, and Mia's gaze fell to the floor again with an almost imperceptible nod.

 

The Briefs matriarch sighed and shifted her weight on her feet. This whole thing with Mia would explain why Trunks was so upset before he left for Bmyhad and got himself into... whatever's he gotten into; Bulma wasn't even sure since he hadn't sent her a message in three months. But she didn't have time to worry about her son—she needed to deal with the problem right in front of her. Literally.

 

“I,” Mia started again, swallowing hard while looking into Bulma's scrutinizing gaze. “I told Neis about what happened... last night,” she added with a half-hearted, lopsided smile. “He... kind of flipped out and wanted to confront Trunks about it.”

 

“I got that part,” Bulma replied with a roll of her eyes directed at Neis's overreaction to the situation. “Mia, you,” Bulma started again, not sure how to ask what she wanted to ask tactfully. “You realize that Neis has feelings for you, right?” she asked, concern painted across her face.

 

Mia opened her mouth and struggled with what to say for a few agonizing seconds. “Yeah... I know,” she replied slowly. “But I just don't...” she trailed off, her gaze somewhere over Bulma's shoulder while she thought. “Well, I know how Trunks feels,” Mia said as her eyes sought out Bulma's once more, “so it's a little easier to deal with.”

 

Bulma smiled sadly at Mia; she knew what the girl meant when she said she understood her son's feelings—that she understood what it meant to have someone close to you want more from a relationship than you can give them. Bulma felt bad for all three of them, her son, Neis and Mia. Mia was certainly a wonderful young woman and it would have been great if her son liked Mia, but she'd known for some time that wasn't going to happen. He didn't look at Mia any differently than anyone else. Not that Bulma focused so much on her son's love life, but she knew him. For many years they were all each other had. Hellish as their world was, the circumstances had helped instill a deep bond between her son and herself.

 

Mia looked over her shoulder out the back door in the kitchen and saw Lowell and Neis were still talking outside. She turned back to Bulma and spoke. “I'm gonna head out,” she said nervously and glanced back toward the kitchen again. “But, through the front,” Mia struggled to say, gesticulating with her hands nervously.

 

“Yes that's perfectly fine,”Bulma replied, hoping to quell the girl's fears. There was no reason to force Mia to walk through what was certain to be an awkward—yet heated—discussion between the two men outside. Lowell and Neis had known each other far longer than either of them knew anyone else in their makeshift group, and the pair had a tendency to shout at one another when having an important conversation. No need for Mia to get in the middle of that.

 

Mia tucked her hair behind her ear again and struggled to keep a straight face. Bulma noticed that Mia's eyes welled with tears when the young woman nodded to Bulma before heading for the hallway. Bulma let her go without another word; this was tough enough on poor Mia she didn't need to drag it out any longer than it had already gone on. Bulma slowly took in a deep breath and let it out quickly. It was a shame, really; if Trunks had returned Mia's feelings they would get along great. And Trunks really loved Terry—well, they _all_ did—and he'd never thought poorly of Mia for having a child so early in life. Well, it couldn't be helped. If his heart wasn't in it, then it was best if nothing ever happened between them.

 

Running her right hand through her hair, Bulma started walking over to the kitchen counter. It was mid afternoon, but she _really_ needed some strong coffee at that moment.

 

“This is bullshit,” Neis shouted at Lowell, the older man only standing two meters away from him on the kitchen patio, just outside the door.

 

“It's not bullshit,” Lowell countered in an equally loud but still completely calm voice. “If he doesn't feel the same, he doesn't feel the same,” the teal-haired professor continued. “You can't force him to be with Mia, and even if you did they'd _both_ be miserable,” he finished, stressing the latter half of his sentence.

 

“And he can just hurt Mia like that?” Neis retorted, his face still twisted up in anger.

 

“So it'd be better if he lied to her and pretended to care?” Lowell countered carefully.

 

Neis shifted his stance as he thought about what to say. He let out a quick breath before replying in a much softer voice than he'd been using. “No...”

 

“I get it,” Lowell started again. “You care about Mia,” he continued as Neis shot him an annoyed look, “and want to protect her. But you can't control relationships between other people. Just... be there for Mia,” Lowell's voice and gaze softened a bit. “You don't need to do anything other than that.”

 

Neis's gaze fell away from Lowell and landed somewhere out in the yard to their side, away from the kitchen and the rest of the west building. He seemed to be in thought for a moment, and Lowell allowed himself to think that maybe he'd had a breakthrough with his former student. That thought was shattered when Neis's head snapped back around and he said snidely, “And how well has that worked for you and Bulma?”

 

Lowell sighed heavily; there'd be no breakthrough today it seemed. “This isn't about Bulma, but you know what?” he began with a rhetorical question, his voice a little more bitter now. “She's her own person. She can choose for herself who she wants to be with and who she doesn't. Likewise, I can also choose to be petty and cut her out of my life for not doing what I want, or I can choose to be a good friend and support her in whatever she chooses for herself,” Lowell paused, hoping his stern words might just make it through Neis's thick skull. He loved the kid like a son, sure, but he wasn't about to take any crap from him about how Lowell lead his own life.

 

Neis only continued to stare hard at Lowell, who didn't back away from his gaze. “I'm not waiting in the wings for the other shoe to drop,” Lowell started again, his voice evenbut powerful, “ready to bail if it's not in my favor. I would think you're man enough to not do that, either.”

 

Neis was tall by any standard, and taller than Lowell who wasn't short by any definition of the word. At that moment, however, as the young man let out a deep sigh and his gaze wandered, Lowell felt like he was ten feet taller than Neis. “You know what old man,” Neis finally spoke and looked back into Lowell's eyes. “When you're right, you're right.” He shifted on his feet and muttered 'shit' quietly under his breath. “Doesn't mean I still won't talk to Trunks about this,” Neis added after a quiet minute.

 

“Talk all you want,” Lowell replied, “just don't do anything stupid.”

 

Neis's mouth scrunched up and he gaze Lowell a scrutinizing gaze. “You know where he is, don't you?” he asked, his tone clear that he wasn't asking the question so much as making a statement of fact.

 

“No,” Lowell replied quickly. Neis gave him an incredulous look, his head tilting to the left as he narrowed his eyes. “Keep your mouth shut,” Lowell added with a glance toward the kitchen to make sure Bulma wasn't behind him, listening in on their conversation. Turning back to Neis he spoke, “He's not on Earth.”

 

“I knew it!” Neis exclaimed triumphantly, snapping his fingers of his right hand. “So what the hell's he doing on Bmyhad?” he asked, clearly interested in what his best friend has been doing the past four months he hadn't seen him.

 

“I don't know,” Lowell gave a slight shrug and shook his head. “Apparently he hasn't even told Bulma. Just something vague about how he owes someone and needs to resolve it now,” he elaborated.

 

“Hah,” Neis laughed hotly. “Probably off trying to play hero again,” he scoffed. The two men let another silence descend between them before Neis finally broke the quiet. “Well... guess I'll head back home,” he said with a deep sigh. He turned to head away when Lowell stopped him.

 

“Hey,” Lowell called out. When Neis turned his face back toward him, Lowell continued. “Be easy on Mia. This is already tough enough on her without you acting like an idiot,” he said quickly.

 

Neis snorted, his mouth curving up into a smirk. “Right,” he said with a slight nod before turning and walking away across the lawn, no doubt headed for his car parked at the south building.

 

Bulma sat on the sofa sipping a fresh mug of coffee. Mia had already gone home, in tears, and Bulma felt bad about it, but at the same time the whole thing was just so _juvenile_. She took another drink of coffee when Lowell reappeared in the kitchen from outside.

 

“Well,” he said, walking over to retake his seat in the leather chair, “that was interesting.” He sighed heavily and dropped into the chair, reaching up to rub his temple.

 

“So Neis told you what was going on?” Bulma asked from behind her mug.

 

“Yeah,” Lowell answered dryly, his face showing his displeasure.

 

Bulma shook her head, “Some days I feel like I'm dealing with a bunch of teenagers. What is wrong with these kids? Why are they so immature? They're all almost thirty,” Bulma complained.

 

“To be fair,” Lowell countered, “they really are like teenagers.” Bulma hated how he always took the opposing viewpoint from her, and was about to ask him what the hell he was talking about when Lowell continued. “They didn't grow up like normal kids, Bulma. Emotionally, their lives were put on hold while they focused on surviving a world that could kill them at any turn. Since Trunks killed the androids, they've had an opportunity to grow up. I hate to say it,” he added with a tilt of his head, “but these are the growing pains of kids that had to wait to mature.”

 

Bulma sighed. “I hate it when you're right,” she said with a half-smile before taking another sip of coffee.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Several hours later, sitting mostly in silence to keep radio traffic to a minimum, Trunks let out another sigh as he stared at the ceiling. He had his head leaned back against the metal wall of the jail cell. He reached up with his left hand to wipe at his eyes, forgetting that Armada's right arm was attached him. Itfollowed his and she yanked it back in response, giving him an annoyed look. Trunks turned toward her and laughed nervously, “Sorry.”

 

“ _Aww, you two are adorable,”_ Laiserta chided over the radio, but her voice echoed strangely. Trunks realized that he'd heard her voice nearby as well as over the radio. He and Armada both looked up and could see a slight visual distortion in the shape of a person on the other side of the glass of their jail cell.

 

Trunks and Armada stood up, but Laiserta stopped them before they moved toward the door. “Wait,” she said lowly. “I'm about to run out of battery so I'm gonna have to drop my camouflage,” she began. “Once I do that, they'll know I'm here. There's a camera over my shoulder,” she said, and Trunks couldn't see exactly what she was doing but she made some kind of motion. “So we're going to make a run for the garage, get some wheels and get the hell out of here,” she finished.

 

“You know where you're going?” Armada asked, still wearing the same steely gaze from when Hrimth police first arrested them.

 

“I already scoped it out on my way here,” Laiserta replied. “The garage is right under us, but it's in the basement, so we'll run down a nearby staircase,” she said and paused. “Hope you guys are good at dodging bullets,” she added, and Trunks could only assume she was smirking with the way she'd said those words.

 

Armada walked toward the door to the jail cell and Trunks stumbled a step before following along after her. “How are you gonna open the door?” Trunks asked, and Armada glanced at him briefly. He wondered if he'd taken the words right out of her mouth.

 

“Oh, you'll see,” Laiserta answered with a teasing lilt to her voice. Just then, her barely-visible silhouette shimmered, and in a few quick seconds Laiserta was visible again. The Taydran mercenary reached over her shoulders to her back and pulled out a long black metal rod. “You might wanna step back,” she said, gripping the meter-long rod with both hands and pulling it back over her shoulder like she was about to swing. Trunks and Armada took a few steps back right as Laiserta swung at the glass of their jail cell.

 

The force of her blow was enough to shock Trunks as the glass of the cell door shattered and fell to the ground. Armada ran toward the opening, and Trunks followed along to keep from being dragged. He glanced at the sides of the broken glass as they ran through and was shocked to see it was almost a foot thick. He knew Laiserta was strong from when he fought her, but he didn't think she was capable of such a feat of pure strength.

 

“Follow me,” Laiserta said as she finished sheathing the rod on her back. She then reached down and withdrew the pistol in the holster on her left thigh, before taking off for the door. As soon as they cleared the remaining jail cells and made it out into a hallway, officers were already headed their way. Laiserta turned and fired four shorts, hitting each officer once in the chest and dropping them.

 

She turned and kept running with her comrades behind her. “Can we refrain from killing any cops?!” Trunks shouted, frustrated with what he just saw. They'd only come here to steal something, they didn't need to exacerbate the situation by killing anyone, let alone police officers.

 

“I didn't kill them,” Laiserta shouted as they ran. “I shot them in the lung, away from the heart. They'll live, trust me,” she glanced back at him before stopping at the next hallway intersection. Laiserta leaned around the corner and saw several officers headed down the hall on their left. She turned back to her comrades and said in a rush, “The door to the stairs is on the right, go ahead and I'll cover you.”

 

Armada didn't think twice and took off, leaving Trunks to stumble again and run after her. He was beyond irritated with being handcuffed to her, if only because it made any kind of movement complicated. As soon as they ran into the open and headed for the door, the officers behind them lifted their weapons to fire. Laiserta then stepped out into the corridor behind the other two mercenaries and raised her weapon. With seven quick shots she downed every officer with a shot to the kneecap, just in case she got more complaints about killing people. The Taydran didn't spare another glance at her targets before chasing after her comrades down the stairwell.

 

Armada stopped quickly when she and Trunks reached the basement. Armada tried to open the door, unsure if it would be locked. Fortunately it opened, and she and Trunks ran inside. Laiserta wasn't kidding when she said they were going to the garage—that was exactly where they found themselves. Dozens of police cars and other unmarked vehicles were sitting in an underground garage.

 

Trunks watched as his comrade took another few steps forward, her eyes scanning the sea of vehicles, probably looking for the best one for their getaway. He then glanced behind him when he heard Laiserta run through the door after them. She turned and pulled the door shut, then proceeded to kick at the door frame. At first Trunks was confused, until he realized that with each kick she was bending the door frame and deforming it to make it harder for the officers pursuing them to get through.

 

Armada turned and called out to Laiserta. “Lai, cut this cable,” she said, lifting her right arm to indicate that she wanted to be separated from Trunks.

 

“Sure,” Laiserta said and strolled over to the pair. She reached down to grab the cable with her right hand and the second her fingers curled around it, electricity appeared to jump around her hand. Laiserta tensed and her face contorted, and she was unable to remove her hand. Thinking quickly, Trunks used his right hand and pushed Laiserta away by shoving her in the sternum and jerking his left hand back, hoping to pry the cable away from her hand. He was successful, and she took a step back to catch herself before bending over, her hands on her knees while she struggled to breathe.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Laiserta cursed through shaky breaths.

 

“You okay?” Trunks asked, deeply concerned. The electric shock from the AEM cuffs didn't seem like much, but she appeared to be in bad shape.

 

“I can't,” Laiserta shook her head and gulped in another breath of air, “I can't deal with electric shock.” She looked up at Trunks, and both he and Armada were stunned at what they saw. Her red eyes looked displaced; parts of her pupil were blown apart into her irises. It looked like puzzle pieces that had come apart, but nothing appeared to be destroyed. Still, Trunks panicked; did their comrade just go blind?

 

“Sorry,” Laiserta said and dropped her head. “I can't see anything right now. Give me a few minutes for the parts to reorganize and I'll be fine,” she explained, her voice still sounding distressed. “I wasn't expecting that or I wouldn't have grabbed it,” she added. “Even a minor electrical shock can throw off the calibration of my eyes.”

 

Trunks felt terrible. The memory came back of when he helped Armada with that other set of AEM cuffs and he recalled that there was a slight electric shock. It wasn't much, and he didn't think that was a standard thing. Apparently neither did Armada because she didn't say anything to Laiserta about it. Or, she thought it wouldn't bother their comrade enough to mention it.

 

Banging on the door from the stairwell drew everyone's attention. “We need to find a car,” Armada blurted out before turning and heading off at a slow jog. Trunks followed along as they searched.

 

“What do we look for?” he asked, glancing between the different vehicles. Obviously they wouldn't take a marked car, but among the unmarked cars he had no idea which cars were better than others.

 

“Something with armor,” Armada answered and then looked at Trunks, “if they're going to chase us.”

 

“Okay,” Laiserta called out, her voice still breathy. “I'm okay now,” she said, walking toward her comrades. “Mostly,” she added before looking off to her right. “Oooh,” she said suddenly, sounding quite interested in something. She walked over to what looked like a row of lockers along one wall and stopped in front of them. “Nice,” she said to herself before reaching for one of the doors and ripping it off of its hinges. She moved with such ease that Trunks was again shocked at her strength.

 

Upon ripping open the locker, Laiserta smiled to herself while looking at the contents. “I love my job,” she said to herself as she reached inside and pulled out a long-range rifle with a large scope. If Trunks had to guess it looked like a sniper rifle. Using the strap on the gun, she slung it over her shoulder and grabbed a bag inside the locker, loading it up with ammunition and several pistols that were also in the locker.

 

The banging on the door grew louder, and another door on the far side of the garage started making noise though it wasn't opening. “Lai, we need an armored vehicle, now!” Armada shouted. They were running out of time to get out of the building before the garage filled with officers. Despite having Laiserta with them now, they would never be able to fight them all off.

 

“Coming!” Laiserta replied, her tone almost jovial. She ran over to her two comrades and took a quick look around. “Hmm,” she said to herself as she scanned. The noise at both doors into the garage grew louder, and Trunks was certain he could hear the voices of the officers shouting behind them. “Over here!” Laiserta cried out and ran toward a black car.

 

When they had all reached the rear of the car, Laiserta spoke. “Best armor plating of the lot, and it should have enough power to haul ass,” she said with a smirk. Armada moved to her left toward the driver's side and Trunks simultaneously moved right away from her. The two of them stopped when their arms were both pulled toward each other and Armada glared at Trunks.

 

“I'm driving,” she bit out angrily.

 

“I know,” Trunks shot back, equally annoyed.

 

Their attention was drawn behind them as Laiserta laughed at the two of them. “Sorry but this is hilarious,” she said between laughs.

 

Armada sighed and walked toward the passenger side, dragging Trunks along with her. She opened the passenger door and climbed in, then proceeded to climb over the center console and into the driver's seat. Trunks moved with her, ducking his head just in time to avoid smacking it into the side of the car. Laiserta climbed into the back seat with the rifle and the bag of weapons and ammo.

 

“How do you plan on starting this thing?” Laiserta asked, leaning forward between the front seats as she turned her attention to Armada.

 

Armada pulled down on the front visor, and the key to the vehicle fell out into her waiting hand. She inserted the key into the ignition and started the vehicle before turning toward Laiserta. “Like that,” she said flatly.

 

“I think we need to get going,” Trunks shouted anxiously.The large door in the back of the garage finally started opening slowly.

 

Armada had already backed the vehicle out of its spot while Trunks was speaking, so when he turned toward her she slammed on the gas and sped down the aisle between rows of parked cars. The large door on the far side of the garage finally opened and gunshots rang out, echoing in the space and making it sound like a war zone. She headed for the exit, which was another closed door. Trunks gripped the door handle with his right hand, not sure why she was speeding toward a _completely shut door_ but knowing that she wasn't going to ram it... was she?

 

“You do see the door, right?” Laiserta asked, her voice rising in intensity—apparently Trunks wasn't the only one questioning Armada's sanity.

 

“Shut up and put on your seat belt,” Armada replied before slamming on the brakes and downshifting, slowing down for the door to automatically open. Once they had just enough clearance to leave, she gassed it and they shot up out of the tunnel onto the streets in downtown Hrimth.

 

Immediately Armada had to jerk the wheel hard to avoid hitting other cars on the road. Several vehicles slammed on their brakes and swerved, blaring their horns at the mercenary group as they weaved in and out of traffic.

 

Trunks was confused by why the sky was bright blue and lit up like the middle of the day. “Shit,” Laiserta cursed behind him, “it's rush hour in downtown during the workweek. We need to get away from all of this traffic,” she added urgently.

 

“Working on it,” Armada replied through gritted teeth and jerked their car sharply to the left, causing everyone in the vehicle to whip around with it.

 

Trunks glanced into the rear-view mirror to his right and saw flashing lights. He turned in his seat and looked out the back window past Laiserta. “We've got company,” he announced loudly when he realized that the flashing lights were Hrimth police cars chasing them through the city.

 

Laiserta pulled out one of her pistols and cocked the gun. Armada saw the action in the center rear-view mirror. “Don't fire,” she said before slamming on the brakes to turn right down another street and avoid several lanes of stopped traffic. “We'll outrun them,” she finished, shifting into a higher gear on a street with more room for her to maneuver.

 

After speeding down four blocks through lighter traffic, the group was approaching a short bridge that arched up over a river. Just as they closed in on the bridge, a group of police cars appeared over the arc of the bridge, headed straight for them. “Shit!” Armada cursed and slammed on the brakes, causing the car to fishtail while the tires squealed in protest. Once they had slowed enough, she turned the vehicle right to travel down a more narrow street that ran along the river. There wasn't much room to veer in and out of traffic but she did so anyway, clearing some vehicles by inches as the mercenaries passed them by.

 

As they approached a traffic light with a line of cars stopped across all lanes, Trunks gripped the door handle once more. “Armada,” he said with the tension rising in his voice. He glanced over to her and she was focused on the road in front of her, shifting as she sped even faster toward the line of motionless vehicles.

 

“Hang on!” she shouted over the sound of the engine and only a second before they would have crashed into the back of another car, she jerked the wheel to the left and brought the car up onto the sidewalk next to the road. Several pedestrians had to leap out of the way as the mercenary drove down the walkway.

 

Laiserta had fallen over with the last sudden movement of the vehicle and flailed her arms as she struggled to sit upright. “Are you crazy?!” she yelled, holding onto the back of Trunks's seat with her right hand.

 

Armada smirked. “You should have put on your seat belt,” she answered darkly. As the crew approached another intersection, there was nowhere to get off of the sidewalk as traffic was stalled at a red light again. Unfortunately there was a cafe on the water with seating on the sidewalk, and they were headed straight for it. Armada downshifted and started blaring the horn, and people turned to see a car barreling down on them and fled. Luckily everyone was out of the way when they started ramming tables and chairs which flew in every direction. One metal chair smacked the windshield hard enough to leave a long horizontal crack down the center.

 

Trunks looked over his shoulder and out of the back window to see police lights in the distance, farther away from the mercenaries than they once were. At the next intersection, Armada slowed the car and took a hard left, braking as she slid the car out into traffic. The car fishtailed again, just barely missing the car next to it which pulled away and blasted its horn. Armada laid into the accelerator again and the mercenaries crossed the river, finally.

 

Trunks turned around again as Armada drove straight for a few blocks before making a right turn at a more reasonable speed. “I think we lost them,” he said and turned toward his comrade who was driving. She had slowed down and tried to blend in with the morning traffic, hoping to get lost if the police did catch up. In response Armada just watched all of her mirrors closely for a moment before looking forward at traffic once more.

 

“Hahah,” Laiserta forced a strained laugh, “that was fun.” She slapped the back of Trunks's headrest and slumped back into her seat, still not bothering to put her seat belt on. The three mercenaries sat in silence for a minute as traffic moved slowly. Laiserta wasn't kidding about it being rush hour, but Trunks was still shocked they'd been in the jail cell so long. The time dragged on, sitting there in silence but even he didn't think so much time had passed.

 

As Trunks thought about the night's events, he felt something nagging in the back of his mind. As the sound moved closer, he finally started to pay attention. _Sounds like a helicopter_ , he thought absentmindedly.

 

“Uh,” Laiserta finally broke the silence, “we have a problem!” Trunks turned to look at Laiserta, who was in turn looking out the back window. He followed her gaze up to see two black helicopters flying in their direction, awfully low considering the number of skyscrapers surrounding them.

 

Armada finally looked into the rear view mirror mounted on the windshield, and when she saw the helicopters her eyes narrowed. She turned and looked out the back window as well, as if she didn't believe what she saw in the mirror was true. “How the hell did they get choppers off the ground so quickly?” Armada demanded with a grimace.

 

“Hate to break it to you, but those are Taydran military,” Laiserta answered tersely as she turned around to face forward.

 

“How'd the military get involved?” Trunks asked, his voice rising in concern.

 

“They must know we have the VI chip,” Armada answered with a stern voice. “They don't want to let it get away,” she finished as her eyes narrowed, staring at the helicopters in the rear view mirror.

 

Trunks looked at the helicopters and back to Armada, who was now studying their movements intensely via the rear view mirror. She had her hand on the gear shift but she was stalling; she was waiting for something. Not that she had anywhere to really go as traffic was still stopped by a red light at the next intersection.

 

“Spider-head, you gonna get us the hell out of here or what?” Laiserta shouted, clearly agitated by Armada's lack of action.

 

“They might not know which one is us,” Armada said evenly, continuing to watch the two black helicopters as if her life depended on it, which wasn't far from the truth. Everyone sat still and held their breath as the two helicopters slowly descended and kept flying straight toward them. The light ahead turned green and traffic started to slowly crawl forward, but Armada held off from moving. The gap created by the car pulling away in front of her was her opportunity to flee if need be.

 

Just as the cars behind them started to beep angrily at the delay, the two helicopters closed in and the nearest one started firing bullets at the mercenaries. “Damnit!” Laiserta shouted, ducking her head as bullets peppered the rear window and back of the car.

 

Armada made the tires squeal as she slammed on the gas and shifted into gear, moving left into the oncoming lane. After dodging two cars while driving the wrong way down the street, Armada slammed on the brakes and drifted left around the corner. As soon as they'd cleared the last building on the block and could see around the corner, Armada's eyes widened in panic. “Shit!” she yelled, gripping the steering wheel tight enough that her knuckles turned white.

 

Trunks instantly felt nauseous. As they came around the corner, the lights on the other street were green for pedestrians to cross and the intersection was full of people, he guessed maybe fifty or more. _Kami please don't kill anyone,_ Trunks thought nervously, gripping the car door handle with his right hand like it was his only lifeline in a hurricane. The few seconds they drifted through the crowd of people felt like an eternity. Armada was holding down the car horn, hoping to catch everyone's attention. Luckily everyone seemed to be awake, and the group of Taydrans screamed and jumped away from the car. As the car slid through the crosswalk in a smooth arc, Armada didn't dare move the wheel.

 

After clearing the crosswalk, everyone let out a sigh of relief. The reprieve didn't last long as the two helicopters came around the corner, and now in a wider street could both fly side-by-side and thus both fire on the mercenaries at the same time. Laiserta ducked and cursed again, however this time the bullets riddling the rear window caused it to crack and splinter to the point that it was nearly impossible to see through.

 

After flooring it to try and get away from their airborne pursuers, Armada saw a sign indicating a road to the right was closed for construction. She jerked the car to the right and rammed the sign, splintering it as the car rolled down an empty access road.

 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Laiserta screamed over the sound of gunfire. “That's the new highway, it's closed because it isn't finished yet!”

 

“Perfect,” Armada said and jerked the gear shift, making the car gain speed. The engine roared to life as the long on-ramp gave the vehicle space to really accelerate, and Trunks could now understand that the car was far more powerful than it looked. As they gained speed, the trail of bullets behind them moved farther away as the helicopters couldn't accelerate quite as quickly.

 

Moving over to her left after getting up to the highway, Armada kept the gas pedal floored as the mercenaries sped down a wide open freeway. “Congratulations,” Laiserta spat angrily, “you just made us the only target on the road! At least in the city they would have to avoid hitting civilians.”

 

“They're also a wide open target,” Armada replied, looking in the side mirror to see the helicopters were finally starting to gain speed and catch up to the mercenaries. “Lai, get your rifle and take them out,” she ordered.

 

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, one of the helicopters fired a small missile. Armada barely had time to react and swerved hard to left, over the median and into the oncoming lanes. The missile hit the ground next to the mercenaries and exploded, flinging large pieces of concrete into the air. Despite narrowly avoiding the explosion, a large piece of concrete fell onto the center of the car's roof, causing it to cave in. Armada jerked the wheel, and the concrete debris fell off of the back of the vehicle. Everyone crouched down since the ceiling of the car was now several inches lower.

 

Laiserta pulled out one of the pistols she'd stuffed in the bag at the garage and aimed at the A pillar on the driver's side. Armada lowered her head more and Laiserta fired, emptying half of the magazine into the pillar. She swung her arm to the right and fired at the pillar on the other side near Trunks, causing the demi-Saiyan to duck and cover his face with his right arm.

 

With the front two pillars destroyed by her own gunfire, Laiserta dropped the pistol onto the floor and reached up with both hands, pushing up on the roof of the car. She slowly pushed the roof up, ripping it from the A pillars in the front of the vehicle that she'd already weakened. Once the roof was totally clear from the front pillars she was able put more strength into her actions, and Laiserta successfully pushed the roof over the back of the car, bending it backward at the C pillars by the rear window.

 

“Now that _that's_ out of the way,” Laiserta yelled, clearly excited with a large grin on her face. With the roof off of the car, the wind whipped everyone's hair around under the morning sun. The helicopters opened fire again and Armada swerved to avoid the bullets, since they no longer had an armored roof to protect their heads.

 

“Oh shit!” Laiserta exclaimed as she fell forward, scrambling to stay inside the vehicle.

 

“Lai!” Trunks shouted and twisted his body, reaching to the back seat over his left shoulder with his right hand, trying to grab onto her. He managed to get a fistful of her suit low on her back, just above her rear.

 

Laiserta managed to grab onto the roof that was hanging over the back of the car and stabilize herself. She turned and laughed while looking at Trunks, “I like to have fun too but that will have to wait for later, wonder boy!”

 

“Lai,” Armada growled, “take them out _now!_ ”

 

Trunks released Laiserta and she sat back down in the seat, picking up the sniper rifle from the floorboard where she'd stashed it when they first got into the vehicle. Hoisting it up onto the upside-down roof, she narrowed her eyes and took aim. “Say goodbye,” she said quietly to herself before firing a single shot.

 

In the closer helicopter, Laiserta's gunshot went through the windshield and straight into the pilot's right shoulder. He gasped and released the joystick in front of him, the helicopter immediately slowing and drifting to the left. Laiserta fired the sniper rifle again, this time hitting the copilot in his left shoulder as the chopper struggled to stay in the air.

 

“One down,” Laiserta pulled back on part of the sniper rifle, “one to go,” she finished with a smirk. She pulled out another clip of two bullets and reloaded the rifle. While she was working, the second helicopter fired a missile.

 

Armada immediately tapped the brakes, slowing the car slightly as they approached an overpass. Laiserta wanted to shout a line of expletives about why Armada would do something so stupid when there was a missile sailing through to the air at them. The blonde mercenary sped up the car once more and drove under the overpass, leading the missile to connect and explode with the road above.

 

Laiserta finished loading her sniper rifle. “All right, time to take these pricks out,” she announced before hoisting the rifle up and taking aim. She followed the helicopter's movements for a moment before firing at the pilot. This time, the pilot anticipated her shot and moved the helicopter at the last moment, causing Laiserta's shot to miss.

 

However, Laiserta didn't have time to worry about the missed shot. She looked down at her sniper rifle and read the manufacturer's name on the side. “Piece of Tyrian shit!” she yelled.

 

The helicopter opened fire with bullets once more, and everyone ducked to avoid getting hit in the head. “Lai!” Armada shouted, glancing back over her shoulder at the Taydran woman.

 

“The rifle's jammed,” Laiserta shouted back over the sound of the wind and engine.

 

“Can you fix it?” Armada asked, looking back to the road and then in the rear view mirror.

 

Laiserta scanned the gun with her eyes, looking up and down the barrel. “Yeah but it'll take too long,” she said, throwing it back down on the floorboard. She pulled out another pistol from the bag of weapons she'd taken from the Hrimth police. She held it up and aimed at the helicopter, holding her arm steady. She fired six bullets in quick succession, testing to see if her theory would work.

 

The second helicopter was hit with six bullets in the windshield right in front of the pilot. The first bullet was stopped by the glass, and the remaining bullets all hit in the exact same spot behind the first. The pilot saw the bullets slowly piling up and inching closer through the thick glass and raised the helicopter up to expose some of the bottom, making any more shots into that same spot impossible from Laiserta's position.

 

“Damnit, I don't have any armor piercing bullets,” Laiserta turned to Trunks and Armada.

 

Armada seemed to think for a moment before glancing at Trunks from the corner of her eyes. “Can you pull your energy out in your right hand?” she asked quickly.

 

Trunks looked down at his hand and focused. It took a lot more concentration than he'd ever had to use when summoning his ki, but after a few seconds a small ball of energy flickered quickly above his right hand before dissipating. He felt the AEM cuff on his left arm clamp down and deliver an electric shock, albeit small. “Yeah, I think I can,” he answered and looked up at his comrade.

 

“Blast that thing out of the sky,” Armada demanded.

 

He glanced at the helicopter before looking back at Armada. “But if I do that,” he started, unable to finish his thought when he was cut off by another shower of bullets peppering the inside of their vehicle. All three mercenaries ducked their heads once more, and Trunks watched bullet holes appear in the dashboard, moving up toward the windshield. One bullet of the dozens that were fired ricocheted off of the dashboard and embedded itself in Armada's right shoulder.

 

The mercenary leader grimaced before shouting, “Trunks!”

 

He took that as his cue and twisted around in his seat, holding his right arm out over his left shoulder. Trunks never had to concentrate so hard in his life to shoot one pathetic ki blast, but within a few seconds he finally managed to fire one out. It wasn't powerful, and it wasn't fast, but it was on target. His ki blast hit the top of the helicopter, destroying the blades and causing the aircraft to descend from the sky unceremoniously. As soon as he'd fired the shot, the AEM cuffs clamped down and gave a much more serious electrical shock, one that made Trunks's vision go black and his head buzz as if he was drunk.

 

“Hahah!” Laiserta laughed excitedly, watching the helicopter go down. “ _Gambustos dos verkanna_ ,” she spat a curse in her native language at the military chopper as it went down. She turned and looked at Trunks, a grin stretched across her face. “Nice shot wonder boy!”

 

Trunks couldn't think to respond as his vision struggled to come back to normal. It was a wonder to him how Armada kept driving, though he did feel their vehicle slow down. When his eyesight came back he looked to his left and Armada seemed as distressed as he was. She glanced at him and flashed a small victorious smirk.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After dropping both helicopters, it didn't take long for the mercenaries to run out of road. It was exactly as Laiserta had said; the highway was still under construction and had quite a bit to go before it would be completed. When they reached the end of the road, Armada pulled over and the crew walked on foot for the last three miles to where the ship was stashed. Once they were back in the ship, Armada used the ship's computer to hack the AEM cuffs and unlock them, finally releasing herself and Trunks.

 

After that, the three of them ended up in the infirmary. “Good news is, it didn't break up,” Laiserta said as she stared at Armada's shoulder. Now close enough to really see what Laiserta's eyes were doing, Trunks was totally freaked out. Her pupils and irises would rotate and move in mechanical, almost robotic ways. Lai had explained that her eyes were completely bio-mechanical and thus made from organic materials, but they moved in parts and pieces that reminded Trunks of robotics. It was unsettling, to say the least.

 

Laiserta turned around to pick up a pair of small tweezers from the counter behind her. “Sit still and I'll take it out,” she finished, turning back around to face Armada. Laiserta placed her left hand on Armada's bare shoulder to hold her still while she dug into the wound with the tweezers she held in her right hand. Armada didn't flinch, and within a few seconds Laiserta pulled the shrapnel from her comrade's shoulder. “All done,” Laiserta announced as she stood upright, tossing the bullet fragment into a nearby trashcan.

 

Armada ran her left hand over the wound, which wasn't bleeding much. She looked up to Laiserta from where she sat on the main table in the infirmary. “Lai, plot a course for Bmyhad and get us out of here,” she stated her order rather plainly.

 

Laiserta nodded. “Once we get this bird in the air, I'm going to bed. I'm tired,” she added lamely before turning and heading out.

 

Jumping down from the table, Armada took a couple steps forward to the counter in the infirmary. She pulled a tube of antiseptic lotion from a cabinet and dabbed a bit onto the fingertips of her left hand. “You might want to get some rest,” she said, turning to Trunks after she had rubbed the lotion into her wound.

 

“What about you?” Trunks asked. He couldn't recall a time he had _ever_ seen her sleep that wasn't in a hospital bed.

 

She was picking up her arm guard she had removed when she'd rolled up her sleeve earlier for Laiserta to remove the bullet fragment embedded in her right shoulder. “Someone has to keep an eye on things,” she replied before walking past Trunks and out of the infirmary.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Several hours later, the ship was sailing through space, and both of Armada's comrades were asleep. She sat back in the pilot's chair in the bridge, not particularly watching the displays in front of her. She was deep in thought. Armada had a suspicion about Trunks for a while, and the day's events had convinced her that she was right. She now knew exactly what Trunks's weakness was, and exactly how she could exploit it. But the funny thing was, she wasn't really thinking about how to take advantage of his weakness. Instead, she was giving serious thought to what she could do to help him overcome it. Armada was prideful, but not the point of stupidity or willful ignorance; she knew that Trunks was far more powerful than her. And yet, she was intrigued by the thought of helping him eliminate this susceptibility of his. She wondered just how much more powerful he could become if he had her help.

 

Armada smirked and laughed darkly at herself. She really was crazy, because despite the logical half of her brain telling her that this idea was insane, and that she should keep the knowledge of Trunks's weakness to herself, she knew what she was going to do.

 

She was going to teach him how to fight.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Honestly I love writing this type of stuff - car chases, comedic moments during what’s supposed to be serious, the good stuff, hahah.  Please leave a review and let me know what you thought.  Also, if the stuff happening on Earth seems boring, I’d love to know.  It’s all setup for later on, because what fun would this fanfic be if Trunks doesn’t go back to the Earth with all of his new “friends” in tow?  XD  Thanks for reading!

  
-Silvia


	15. Mission 09:  Secondary Missive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple mission to rescue some couriers from a band of pirates goes sideways when the crew learns the truth of what happened.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

  


-+-

  


_“Airlock opening in four seconds.”_

 

Alpha-One let out a breath inside his helmet as the metal door in front of him rose up and out of the way. Immediately he stepped forward, dragging his piece of the team's cargo with his right hand. The occupants of the space station clearly weren't expecting them, and began to shout in panic. Alpha-One raised his left hand and gave the signal; his squad mates behind him fired gas bombs into the station. The gas would only temporarily paralyze the pirates without hurting them, which was their goal for today's operation.

 

Once he and his team had reached the center of the docking bay, they stopped walking. The gas was already starting to clear out as the pirates activated the emergency life-support systems. Everything was proceeding according to plan.

 

Three men stood out from the rest, walking forward to meet Alpha-One and his team. They wore masks; apparently they had enough of a warning to put on filtration masks before approaching Alpha squad in the docking bay. “Who the hell are you?” the man in the center demanded, his voice partially distorted by the mask he wore. Based on his shaved head, dark complexion and tattoos down his arms, Alpha-One knew this was Sterling Lors, the leader of this group of pirates.

 

“Take these people,” Alpha-One said, dropping the unconscious body he was dragging with his right hand. His voice was artificially distorted to conceal his identity, along with the rest of his team. Wearing all black gear with helmets to cover their faces, the members of Alpha squad were indistinguishable from one another. “Demand ransom from their company for their safe return,” Alpha-One continued, and two of his squad mates took their cue to drag the other two unconscious people forward and drop them next to the first.

 

“Don't kill them,” Alpha-One said flatly. He reached up and pulled a black duffel bag from his shoulders, dropping it on the floor at his feet. “Here's one hundred thousand betas for your trouble,” he explained, not bothering to open the bag to reveal the cash inside.

 

The three pirates glanced at one another before a pale man with dark, wavy shoulder-length hair turned toward Alpha-One. “What if we refuse?” he asked, his eyes narrowing at the intruders.

 

Alpha-One didn't hesitate for a second. He immediately reached down for his pistol and brought it up, aiming for the man's left thigh. He fired a shot, hitting his target in the center of his thigh.

 

“Argh!” the man cried out before buckling over, covering the wound with both hands. His comrades quickly moved to help him, and Alpha-One holstered his weapon. He knew he wouldn't need to fire again; the pirates understood the message he was sending them.

 

Alpha-One then switched his comm over to internal only. “Alpha squad, move out,” he ordered, turning and walking back toward the airlock. The rest of the team fell into step behind him, leaving a crew of bewildered pirates behind.

 

The members of Alpha squad ascended the ramp back into their own ship, with all but one of them filing away farther into the ship. Alpha-One watched the cargo bay doors shut and waited for the hiss of the airlock before reaching up to his neck to unfasten his gear. Alphonse Drouet removed his helmet and used his left hand to wipe his black bangs out of his eyes.

 

“All right,” he heard a voice call out to him, heading into the cargo bay. Drouet turned and studied the young man with an intense stare, his green eyes scrutinizing the young Rieve enforcer.

 

Rouge finished closing the distance between himself and the Taydran operative before he spoke. “Let's get going. We've got a delivery to make,” he said with a smirk, the front edge of his red mohawk falling forward with each movement he made.

  


-+-

  


Illumination

 

Mission 09: Secondary Missive

  


-+-

  


Trunks was just finishing the last of his breakfast while watching a newscast in the lounge when Laiserta walked in. She stopped in front of him and kicked the single, centered metal leg of the table he was eating at, causing it to rock and nearly knock his cup of water over. Trunks nearly choked as he swallowed the last bite of his morning meal, and proceeded to look up at Laiserta and glare at her. “What the hell?” he asked, clearly irritated.

 

Laiserta looked at him and raised an eyebrow as if he was the one acting crazy. “I was trying to get your attention,” she answered plainly.

 

Trunks's mouth hung open in disbelief. “You couldn't have just said something?” he finally asked, when he could find his voice.

 

Laiserta shrugged. “Yo?” she said casually. Trunks shook his head before turning his attention back to the monitor on the other side of the room.

 

“Let's go shopping,” Laiserta broke in again, and Trunks's eyes slowly rolled over to his left to look at her. “You don't have shit in your closet,” she said in a somewhat-mocking tone, “and I'm bored.”

 

She wasn't wrong; Trunks didn't have a lot of clothing on board the ship. He opened his mouth to ask her when she'd gone through his stuff, when he suddenly realized that was a dumb question. “Because you've looked in my closet,” he said in realization, shaking his head at himself.

 

“Come on,” Laiserta whined, “let's go!”

 

Trunks sighed and laughed at himself. “I guess I don't have anything better to do,” he said ruefully and rose from his seat to take his empty plate and cup of water back to the galley. After quickly washing all the dishes and utensils he'd used and putting them away, he walked back into the bridge to see Laiserta talking to Armada.

 

“Hey,” Armada turned and called out to Trunks when he approached the two women. “I need to talk to you,” she said flatly. “Meet me in the cargo bay in three hours,” she added before walking past him and down the hall toward the cargo bay.

 

Trunks watched her walk away and raised an eyebrow. What could she possibly want? “What the hell was that about?” Laiserta asked, her voice sounding just as confused as Trunks.

 

“No idea,” Trunks answered and turned back to Laiserta. “I guess I'll find out later,” he added with a shrug.

  


-+-

  


Trunks dropped two large bags onto the floor in his room and started pulling items out to put them away. Apparently Laiserta liked to shop for other people, though when he asked why she got a wistful look in her eyes and muttered something unrelated. She'd wanted to change the subject and avoid answering his question, and Trunks let her. He still wasn't sure if she was all right or if she annoyed him to no end, but he did know that whatever she was trying to keep from him seemed kind of painful for her. So he wasn't going to ask her about it, at least not yet.

 

As Trunks began hanging his new clothes in his closet, he felt a little embarrassed again. Laiserta had picked out most of what he'd ended up purchasing, and had explained that this was fun for her. He relented because he didn't disagree with anything she had picked out, and he could use a little more variety in what he owned. He suddenly thought of his mother, and how she made fun of him for wearing the same jacket all the time. _I appreciate the walking advertisement,_ she had joked while pointing to the Capsule Corp. logo on the left arm of his jacket, _but you really need to switch things up a bit._ He smiled to himself while thinking of her. He missed Bulma, and everyone else back on Earth, but he felt that he really needed to help Armada wipe out Rieve. Part of it was pride. His pride was wounded when the mafia had nearly killed him, even if it was only by circumstance. The other part was fear. Fear that Rieve would find out who he was, and where he was from, and come after his friends in Bmyhad or worse—they'd use the jump gate to come to Earth. He couldn't let that happen.

 

After getting everything put away, he checked his watch. He still had twenty minutes before he was supposed to meet Armada in the cargo bay, but he could sense that she was down there. _Why wait?_ He thought and left his room. A few moments later he was walking down the stairs into the cargo bay. Once he reached the bottom, he turned around the corner and slowly came to a stop. Armada was standing with her back to him, her arms crossed in front of her. From the way she was standing, he thought she looked like she was thinking about something. He glanced around quickly and it appeared that she had moved some of the crates and other items around to the edges of the room, creating a wide open space. The same wide open space she stood in the middle of, still with her back to him.

 

“Am I too early?” Trunks asked, taking another cursory step forward.

 

“No,” Armada said and turned around to look at him. She was wearing a plain long-sleeved t-shirt and cargo pants, and her hair was pulled back in a braid. She took a few steps forward so she was only standing a meter away from Trunks. “Thanks for meeting me,” she added, and Trunks was immediately confused.

 

 _'Thanks?'_ he thought, sure the shock was evident on his face. That wasn't a word he heard from her very often, and usually only in extreme circumstances. Now he was nervous, worried about what this was all about. He studied Armada's face for any clue was to what was going on, and he thought he saw some reticence there. _Is she nervous?_ he wondered.

 

“There's something I noticed about you a while ago,” she started, her voice sounding as plain and straightforward as always. “At first I wasn't sure, but after our last few operations now I'm certain that what I thought about you was right,” she added, looking straight into his eyes without any hesitation.

 

Trunks thought he was confused before, but now he was entirely bewildered. What could she be talking about? She thought about him? _Oh Kami,_ Trunks thought as an idea came to him. _She's not... she's not coming on to me, is she?!_ he thought in a panic. A cold chill ran down his spine at the idea, just like the time Neis had dumped a bucket of ice down the back of his shirt on a hot summer day. His imagination ran away with him, and he could picture Armada shouting angrily _“I like you!”_ before attempting to punch him in the face. His face twisted up into a confused mess and he swallowed hard, bracing for whatever was coming next.

 

“Your fighting technique is terrible,” Armada said flatly.

 

Trunks blinked in stunned silence for a moment. “Wait, what?” he asked, his voice rising in shock. He certainly wasn't expecting her to say _that_.

 

“You have a lot of energy, so you can use it to move quickly and hit hard,” Armada began explaining her thesis statement. “But when you're forced to fight without it, and you have to rely completely on your own hand-to-hand combat skills, you don't fare well,” she continued. “It was really obvious when you fought with Lai, and again at the police station in Hrimth. It doesn't look like you've had any formal training in your life,” she finished.

 

Trunks was dumbfounded, and his mouth hung open for a moment as he tried to think of how to respond. She was saying he couldn't fight? He laughed darkly, looking down at the ground before bringing his gaze back up to meet hers. “Are you kidding me?” he asked defensively. “You're saying I can't fight?” he asked, his anger bleeding into the tone of his voice. He couldn't believe what she was saying.

 

“Yes,” Armada answered quickly.

 

“This is ridiculous,” Trunks said through angry laughter. “You're so jealous of me that now you're going to tell me that I can't fight?” he bit back, lifting up both hands to his sides in disbelief. “You're insane,” he shook his head at her. He was angry but also stunned at her audacity to insinuate that he was lacking in his ability to fight. Hell, if there was only one thing he was good at, _that was it._

 

He took a step back to turn around and leave; really, she had asked him to meet her for _this?_ “I didn't say you weren't strong,” she spoke up, her voice still even despite his outburst. “You're far more powerful than me, I get that,” she added, narrowing her eyes slightly. “But when it comes to pure fighting ability, without enhanced strength and speed due to the use of your energy, you're weak,” she paused for a moment. “And I can prove it to you,” she added with a determined gaze.

 

“Really?” Trunks scoffed.

 

Armada turned away from him and took a few steps over to a nearby metal crate. A small cylinder was sitting on top, and she pressed a few buttons on the item. Trunks then felt his energy melt away completely, and he immediately realized they were standing in a Minovsky field. Armada stepped away from the crate and lined up with Trunks, this time a little farther away. “If you can land one hit on me, you win,” she said sternly.

 

Trunks smirked despite himself; she was about to be embarrassed and he wasn't going to feel sorry for her. “How many tries do I get?” he asked, wanting to verify the rules of this stupid game.

 

“As many as you want,” she answered plainly. “It won't matter, you won't win,” she added, sliding backward a bit and bringing both hands up, preparing to defend against her comrade.

 

“Yeah?” Trunks laughed darkly, settling into an old fighting stance Gohan had taught him. Never had any real training? How ridiculous. “We'll see about that,” he added, narrowing his eyes. He studied her for a brief moment before moving in with a basic punch.

 

Armada quickly took a half step back and moved slightly to the side, catching Trunks's arm between both of her forearms. She then wrapped both of her hands around his right forearm and swiftly tossed him backwards, up over her head and back down toward the ground. He landed on his back with a loud thud and blinked in shock. That had all happened much faster than he thought possible.

 

Trunks sat up before rising completely from the ground. He turned and faced Armada, who looked at him with an emotion it was hard for him to place. It wasn't disdain, and it wasn't pity... perhaps it was an air of superiority. And it pissed him off.

  


-+-

  


Approximately an hour later, Trunks was leaned over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He was exhausted; a bead of sweat ran down the right side of his face. He'd just lost again when she'd punched him in the chest and knocked him back a few steps. Trunks had lost count now how many times he'd been defeated. As Armada stood across from him, calm and cool, he had to face the truth. She was right. As much as his pride hated it, she was right. No matter what he tried, she was able to stop him. At first it had been annoying, and then it was infuriating. Now, though... now he just felt pathetic.

 

“You win,” he said, his head falling forward so he didn't have to look at her. Trunks took another deep breath before looking back up at her, his hair partially covering his face. “You made your point,” he added, wondering what all of this was for.

 

Armada relaxed and stood upright. She walked over to the Minovsky generator sitting on a crate by the wall and powered it down. When his energy returned to him, Trunks felt renewed. He stood completely upright as Armada took a few steps toward him. She had a slight sheen of sweat of her forehead but otherwise appeared fine. His pride took another hit; not only had she kicked his ass like she said she would, but she did so while barely breaking a sweat.

 

“How much formal training have you had?” Armada asked, her face giving away the slightest hint of concern.

 

Trunks had to think about what she'd asked. He had only trained with Gohan for just over a year, and that was mostly focused on gaining strength versus learning technique. It wasn't as if Gohan was a bad teacher, but they were in an extreme situation, doing their best to gain enough strength to survive and one day defeat the androids. Then there was the year he spent in the Room of Spirit and Time in the past with his father. That... wasn't really structured training, either. His father merely beat the shit out of him in an attempt to gain strength. Trunks supposed he could consider it a kind of training, since if nothing else he learned what _not_ to do while fighting his father.

 

“Two years,” Trunks finally answered. It was the truth, even if the training he'd received wasn't very technical.

 

Armada nodded slightly. “I thought so,” she said softly.

 

Trunks laughed under his breath. “That bad, huh?” he asked, giving her a sheepish smile.

 

“Don't feel bad,” Armada replied. “I've got a lot of years on you.”

 

“Really?” he asked, intrigued. “How many?” he continued, curious just exactly how much training it took for someone to outclass him so badly.

 

“Fourteen years of daily training in between operations,” she answered, her eyes falling away from his briefly. “I've mastered six different martial arts, I'm expert level in another fourteen and an advanced-intermediate in another thirty-five,” she added.

 

“Wow,” Trunks blurted out, amazed by what she'd just listed. Maybe she was more of a badass than he'd previously given her credit for. “How'd you manage that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

 

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering him. “Doesn't matter,” she finally said. “Anyway, the point of all this is,” Armada let out a breath before continuing. “I'd like to train you. Teach you proper technique,” she quickly added. “I think you have a lot of room for improvement.” She stopped for a moment and swallowed thickly; Trunks almost thought she was nervous. “If you want me to,” she finished.

 

“It's probably not a bad idea,” Trunks said, a smirk slowly appearing on his face. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Let's do that.”

 

“Anyway,” Armada interjected before turning away from him and walking over to pick up the Minovsky generator still sitting on the crate. “That's enough for today,” she finished, turning to look at him while holding the device.

 

“So when do we start?” Trunks asked. It was the natural follow-up question to the idea of Armada teaching him, which was still something he had to wrap his head around.

 

“Tomorrow,” she said flatly. “Barring that we're not busy,” she elaborated. Armada then walked past him and headed back upstairs.

 

Trunks laughed ruefully at himself. He wondered what Gohan would think if he could see his pupil now.

  


-+-

  


Later that day in the early evening, Trunks stood next to Laiserta in the bridge, looking at the ship's main monitor while Armada brought up information on a new job sent to her. “Three days ago, a courier ship was boarded and hijacked by pirates at a remote space station in Alliance space,” Armada began. “The three couriers on board were kidnapped and are being held hostage for a ransom of four million betas from their company, the Baesman Courier Group. They're a part of the Winner Corporation conglomerate based out of Ceva,” Armada continued, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. Trunks knew that Ceva was another nation in the Federation Alliance, not unlike Bmyhad, but there was a considerable distance between those two worlds.

 

“Which station?” Laiserta asked, leaning forward and settling her forearms on the back of Armada's chair. “Was it EVC9443?” she supplied.

 

“That's the one,” Armada nodded, and Trunks thought she sounded slightly impressed.

 

“Yeah pirates are bad out that way,” Laiserta explained. “Doesn't surprise me that someone was hijacked, considering that nobody patrols that area,” she finished, sparing a glance to her left at Trunks.

 

“Anyway,” Armada cut in, “the Winner Corporation wants their employees back, unharmed, without paying the ransom.” She pressed a few more buttons and another set of images came up, including a few mugshots. “The pirates are a group known as LOR,” she said, pronouncing the initials separately.

 

“I've heard of these idiots,” Laiserta laughed. “The 'Lords of Ravage,' right?”

 

“Their leader is a man named Sterling Lors,” Armada replied, “so that's likely where the name came from. Regardless,” she changed the subject back to the pertinent details, “the pirates are holed up in their base with the hostages. Their base is a space station just inside the Republican border, not far from where they abducted the couriers,” she added.

 

“So if it's a space station then you two can't go in just guns-blazing,” Laiserta said, glancing between Trunks and Armada. “But I can,” she added, a wide grin spreading across her face as she stood upright.

 

“This shouldn't be difficult,” Armada said, turning in her chair to look at her comrades. “The pirates won't have a Minovsky field, it's not something they can afford. And they don't have any known energy fighters among their ranks,” she finished.

 

Trunks laughed, “It'd be nice to have an easy job for once.” He paused a moment before asking about the one thing Armada had yet to mention. “How much is the Winner Corporation paying for this rescue?”

 

“Four hundred and sixty thousand betas,” Armada replied automatically.

 

Laiserta whistled. “Nice chunk of change,” she said in surprise.

 

Armada turned in her chair, facing the ship's console once more. “It should take us a little over two days to get there,” she stated, preparing the ship for launch.

 

“Whoa whoa,” Laiserta moved to Armada's right side and leaned over somewhat so she could look at the blonde mercenary face-to-face. “This ship can fly way faster than that,” the Taydran mercenary began, “why the hell are you gonna fly so slow?”

 

Armada turned slightly in her chair to face Laiserta. “Because we need to stay off of radar,” she replied, her eyes narrowing slightly.

 

“Yeah well just fly slow until we get out of planetary scanning range, then kick it up a notch,” Laiserta replied, her annoyance clear in her tone. Armada eyed Laiserta warily, who then sighed and stood upright. “Fine, whatever,” she huffed before turning and heading back toward the barracks.

 

Trunks watched Laiserta leave before looking back toward Armada again. He felt the ship's engines roar to life and begin lifting the ship into the sky. “Can you do that?” he asked, wondering if what Laiserta suggested was possible.

 

Armada finished setting the ship's course and turned in her chair to face him. “We could,” she replied and paused for a moment, “but it's not typically a risk that I take. Even if we are out the range of any planetary scanners, doesn't mean we can't be picked up by long-range radar. If we are, someone could calculate our course and figure out that we left from Bmyhad,” she finished.

 

“Yeah but doesn't Rieve already know that we're on Bmyhad?” Trunks asked, motioning slightly with his right hand.

 

“Yes, but it doesn't mean we should advertise it to everyone else,” Armada answered plainly.

 

“Speaking of Rieve,” Trunks started again, glancing down the hall toward the barracks to make sure Laiserta wasn't about to walk into the bridge before turning back toward his comrade. “Why don't they just come after us?” he asked. “I mean, _really_ come after us, not just these one-off attacks,” he added.

 

“They'd never get their fleet to Bmyhad, for one,” Armada replied. “Secondly, Bmyhad's a highly advanced nation. It's not easy for Rieve to move around unnoticed.”

 

Trunks laughed slightly, “But it is for us?”

 

Armada smirked. “We don't wear a stupid blue uniform advertising who we are,” she explained. “Besides, we're better than they are at laying low. These guys don't know anything about stealth, and they're not properly trained. They're just a bunch of thugs organized into a group,” she finished.

 

“Based on their reputation alone, they don't sound like they're just a bunch of thugs,” Trunks replied, his visage falling. They appeared to be much smarter than that.

 

“It's their leadership,” Armada answered. “They have a fleet, and an elite group of fighters. Corvus was one of them,” she paused a moment and continued. “But their biggest strength is their leadership, it always has been.” Her eyes dropped away from his for a moment. “Whoever is calling the shots knows what they're doing.”

 

Trunks's face showed his confusion at her words. “You don't know who it is?” he asked, surprised that she wouldn't know.

 

“It's someone in the Rieve family,” Armada answered, her eyes meeting his again. “I don't know who exactly,” she added flatly. “There was some kind of shake-up some years ago among the leadership, but nobody seems to know who came out on top.”

 

Trunks now felt that they had a much clearer target when it came to information on Rieve. Perhaps if they knew which member of the Rieve family was leading the organization, they would have a target to strike. If leadership was their strength, then Trunks thought it made sense to hit them there. Cut the head off of a snake, and all. “Let's see if we can figure that out,” he replied.

  


-+-

  


Hacking the pirates' space station to disable their defenses was too easy. Decrypting their communications signals and docking to the station was equally easy. Armada was right when she had told Trunks she wasn't a hacker. She had tools she had purchased that made breaking and entering as easy as the click of a button. Trunks laughed lightly to himself; his mother would certainly find this technology interesting.

 

“Lai,” Trunks spoke as the trio stood in the air lock, waiting on the final door into the station to open. “What have we got?” he asked.

 

“Hmm,” Laiserta replied, tilting her head slightly as she used her eyes to look through the metal door and into the station beyond. “Bunch of snipers up on the balcony to the left. Large group of guys waiting off to the right on the ground floor, a couple under the balcony on the left,” she listed off almost disinterestedly.

 

“What about the hostages?” Armada asked.

 

“Looks like they're in a room in the back, on the left, down the central corridor,” Laiserta answered, her eyes still adjusting as she studied the space station before them. “But they're not alone,” she added slowly while squinting.

 

The air lock finished pressurizing and the door in front of the mercenaries slowly started to rise. Laiserta smirked to herself and drew both pistols from her hips. Trunks watched Laiserta for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak, but found that someone else had cut him off.

 

“Try not to kill anyone,” Armada ordered, glancing to Laiserta from the corner of her eyes.

 

“Tch,” Laiserta huffed, “you take all the fun out of it.”

 

“We don't need a band of pirates following us around on some stupid revenge trip,” Armada elaborated, her eyes narrowing at her comrade.

 

“Fine, fine, I won't kill anyone,” Laiserta conceded with a shrug. Trunks was glad, and chanced a glance at Armada. He wondered why she would care about them not killing the pirates. He certainly wasn't afraid to kill anyone if he felt he had to, but Armada played a lot more loosely with people's lives. Or at least he thought she did.

 

The door finally raised high enough that the mercenaries could run through, and they charged forward. Laiserta immediately took aim for the pirates up on the balcony, firing shots in quick succession. Each bullet hit a target, either in a shoulder or a thigh, causing each pirate to drop their weapon or drop to the floor.

 

Armada and Trunks both flew forward at full speed, and Trunks diverted to the right when he noticed a dozen or so pirates running down a flight of stairs toward the open area of the dock. Trunks flew into the group, using his energy to move faster than any of the men could register. With a few well-placed punches to the abdomen or chest of each pirate, each of the men fell to the ground, unconscious. Trunks flew back down the hall to the docking bay to find another group of pirates headed for Laiserta from behind. He charged at them, quickly knocking out the seven pirates the same as the others before.

 

Laiserta turned and looked at Trunks over her shoulder. “Thanks wonder boy,” she said with a smirk.

 

While her comrades handled the front of the house, Armada flew to the back. It was far too easy to put down the few pirates guarding the three hostages. Without a Minovsky field to stop her, she could move far faster than they could think. With several strong punches, her enemies were out cold. Armada then moved toward the three couriers, bound and gagged, lying on the floor amongst some cargo crates.

 

Armada knelt next to one of the couriers, a young man with short blonde hair. She tried to pull him to a seated position, but his body was limp in her hands and he didn't even seem to be conscious. Upon a closer look, his breathing was shallow and he was covered in sweat. Armada's eyes narrowed as she thought about what she was looking at. Clearly something was wrong with the couriers.

 

Back in the docking bay, all the pirates were down when Trunks and Laiserta heard a noise behind them. They spun around in time to see two men holding rifles pointed at them. Without thinking, Laiserta immediately raised the pistol in her right hand and fired, shooting the paler man in his right thigh.

 

The dark haired man dropped his weapon, both hands immediately clutching his leg. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath before falling to the floor ungracefully.

 

The darker skinned, bald headed man dropped his weapon and raised his hands. “Please,” he began, “we surrender. Please don't hurt my men,” he added, and Trunks noted the tattoos up and down the man's arms. He matched the description of Sterling Lors, the group's leader.

 

Laiserta glanced at her comrade, a look of surprise on her face. “Well that was pretty easy,” she said plainly.

 

“We're here for the couriers,” Trunks said to Sterling. “If we leave with them without any trouble from you, then no one has to be hurt,” he finished.

 

“Take the bastards!” the dark-haired man on the floor shouted while still pressing on to the gunshot wound in his right thigh. “We never wanted them in the first place!”

 

Laiserta watched the man curiously while Trunks looked back at Sterling. “What's he talking about, you never wanted them?” Trunks asked, his eyes displaying his suspicion to the pirates.

 

“We didn't kidnap them,” Sterling explained angrily, “they were dumped on us. We were told to play along with the kidnapping story or suffer the consequences,” he explained.

 

“By who?” Trunks asked. He was highly skeptical of this convenient story to make the pirates look like victims themselves.

 

Sterling grimaced before answering. “I don't know,” he said through gritted teeth. “They were military, wearing all back with masks and voice modulators.”

 

Trunks opened his mouth to follow up to what the pirate leader had just said when he was cut off by a voice on the radio in his ear. _“Laiserta, something's wrong with the couriers, I need your help,”_ he heard Armada say to his comrade.

 

“On our way,” Laiserta said, glancing at Trunks before she started walking toward the back of the docking bay. Trunks quickly fell into step next to her as they walked. Once they were out of earshot of the pirates, Laiserta looked at Trunks. “They might not be lying about that,” she said, referring to what Sterling had said.

 

“Why's that?” Trunks asked.

 

“The guy on the ground, he has a gunshot wound in his other leg, and it's not from me,” she replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

Moments later, Trunks and Laiserta walked up to Armada who was still kneeling on the ground next to the three couriers. She turned and looked up at Laiserta. “Something's not right with them,” she started. “Lai, can you take a look?”

 

Laiserta nodded and stared at each of the couriers, her irises rotating around her pupils in a way that still made Trunks uneasy, so he had to look away. After about a minute, Laiserta spoke. “Temperatures are high, blood pressure is up, but brain activity is down.” She paused a moment before another thought hit her. “Are they high?” she asked, looking to Armada in confusion.

 

“I think they've been drugged,” Armada answered. “We can test to find out exactly what they've been dosed with when we get them back to the ship,” she finished, pulling up the blonde haired courier as she stood. “Let's get going,” Armada said and started flying out, carrying the unconscious courier bridal-style as she flew.

 

Laiserta shrugged at Trunks before reaching down to pick up the one woman among the hostages and tossed her over her shoulder. Trunks picked up the last courier, a brown haired young man, and carried him the same way as Armada as he too flew out of the room.

  


-+-

  


The couriers laid in the three beds in the infirmary, free from their handcuffs and gags, but all still unconscious. Armada stood at the counter in the infirmary, waiting for a small computer to finish running tests on the last of the three couriers' blood. When the device beeped indicating it had finished its analysis, none of the mercenaries were surprised at the results. “It's the same as the others,” Armada said and turned to face her comrades, “they were all dosed with angel dust.”

 

“What is that?” Trunks asked. He gathered it was some kind of drug from the way Armada and Laiserta had discussed it already, but wanted to know a little more.

 

“It's a street drug,” Laiserta answered, her arms crossed over her chest where she leaned back against the wall opposite Armada. “Outlawed because long term use causes brain damage,” she added. “Doesn't matter where you are in the universe, there's always a contingent of people who want to get high,” Laiserta explained, glancing at Trunks. He supposed she was right, as the same problem existed on Earth as well.

 

Armada finished preparing three injections to administer to each courier to counteract the effects of the drug. The mercenaries walked into the other room of the infirmary where the three couriers lay, and Armada quickly injected the medicine into the intravenous line they had setup for each courier. The three hostages were severely dehydrated and needed the fluids.

 

“You think what Sterling said was true?” Laiserta asked, looking toward Armada.

 

“I don't know,” she answered plainly, turning her attention to her comrade. “Kidnapping for ransom isn't something that LOR typically does,” she finished.

 

One of the couriers started to move slightly in his bed, drawing the mercenaries' attention. “It wasn't them,” the blonde haired courier said quietly, his voice shaky.

 

The mercenaries moved closer to him, surprised that one of the couriers was already coming to. “What happened?” Armada asked, looking down at the man from the right side of his bed.

 

“We were ambushed while refueling on the trip to Bmyhad,” he said, his voice still hoarse and weak. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a hurried breath. “Military,” he said, shaking his head. “They injected us with something, next thing I knew we were with these pirates,” he finished.

 

“Who was it? The military,” Armada added, hoping to get as much information from the courier as possible.

 

“Don't know,” he said, opening his eyes again to look at her. “They were wearing all black, and they spoke some bizarre language I've never heard before,” he finished, closing his eyes again.

 

The mercenaries all exchanged glances, but before anyone could say anything, another voice spoke up. “I know what it was,” the brown-haired woman in the group said from the bed to the left of her blonde coworker. “I've heard it before,” she continued, her voice as weak as the man next to her. “It was Taydran,” she finished.

 

Trunks looked to Laiserta. “I thought Taydrans spoke Ferian like everyone else?” he asked. Trunks had learned that the language he spoke, the same as the Bmyhadians, was a language spoken across the universe called 'Ferian.' He had read that it originated in the Republic thousands of years ago, and spread due to the prominence of a merchant world called Feros, where the language was initially spoken.

 

“They do, but a small percentage of the population can also speak native Taydran,” she added. “While it's still considered an official language of Taydr, it's almost never used in an official capacity,” Laiserta finished, looking just as perplexed as her comrades.

 

Armada crossed her arms over her chest as she thought. “But why would the Taydran military kidnap a few couriers and make it look like a group of pirates did it?” she asked, her eyebrows drawn together as she thought.

 

A thought occurred to Trunks. “They're couriers, right?” he started. “So what were they delivering? Maybe that's what the Taydrans wanted,” he finished.

 

Armada's face lit up at his suggestion. “Good idea,” she said and looked back down at the blonde courier. “What were you delivering to Bmyhad?” she asked flatly.

 

“Encrypted tablets,” the young man replied. “I don't know what kind of data was on them. But,” he smiled slightly, “we always have a way to track items we're delivering.”

  


-+-

  


Alphonse Drouet glared up at the figure that backed away from him after tying a gag around his head, preventing him from speaking. He sat on the floor with his comrades, the five of them bound, gagged and sitting in a circle in the bridge of their cargo ship. They'd been ambushed and boarded, beaten and now humiliated on their way back to their homeworld. To say that Alphonse was angry would be putting it mildly, especially after the punch he'd taken to the left side of his face, already sporting a nasty bruise.

 

Laiserta took a step back from the Taydran spies and dusted her hands off. “All done,” she said with a smirk as the last man she had gagged stared at her with furious green eyes. “Aww, don't be so upset,” she said mockingly, “you guys never stood a chance against me.”

 

At the other end of the bridge, Trunks was examining several tablets to ensure they had picked up the right ones. After isolating the two that the Baesman couriers were delivering and setting them aside, he began going through the other three tablets to see if there was anything of interest. The first two barely had any information on them from what he could tell, and he was able to quickly set them aside. The third however, had information on it but the files were in a language he didn't recognize. The documents were some kind of form but the information meant nothing to him. He didn't hope to stare at the words until he suddenly learned a new language, but something in the back of his mind was bugging him about it. He thought he heard Laiserta say something to Armada, but he wasn't really listening... and then an idea struck him.

 

“Hey, Lai,” he said, turning around to look for his comrade. He spotted her standing near the pilot's console with Armada, and they both turned toward him. Trunks held up the tablet in one hand, “Can you take a look at this?” he asked. If the couriers were right, and their kidnappers did indeed speak Taydran, perhaps that was the language on the device he'd found.

 

Laiserta walked towards Trunks, taking a moment to leer at the soldiers she'd left tied up on the floor as she passed by them. “What's up wonder boy?” she asked casually once she'd reached him.

 

Trunks held out the tablet to her and she took it from his hand. “Can you read that?” he asked, looking at the device and then back up at her.

 

“Let's see,” Laiserta let out a deep breath as she studied the device, flipping through a few items. “Yeah,” she glanced up at him, “it's written in Taydran.”

 

Laiserta took a few moments to read the information in front of her, and Armada approached the pair. “What have you got?” she asked Trunks, not bothering to talk to Laiserta since she appeared to be busy.

 

“Something that I think belongs to those guys,” Trunks replied, motioning slightly to the group they'd subdued.

 

“It's a bunch of shipping manifests,” Laiserta broke in, not taking her eyes off of the device. “The last one is dated a few days ago.”

 

“Shipping manifests for what?” Armada asked.

 

“Don't know,” Laiserta replied immediately. “It doesn't say. But,” she moved her head slightly, indicating she was thinking about how to explain what she was looking at. “Taydran is an odd language grammatically,” she started, looking at both of her comrades, “which is why it's so difficult for people to learn who don't learn it natively, and why it's so hard to translate. Anyway,” she shifted her weight on her feet, “sometimes how you say things has to do with the subject you're speaking about. While this manifest doesn't say what was being shipped, the words used indicate that it was something,” she trailed off a moment, thinking of how to translate what she was reading. “Dangerous, hazardous,” she paused.

 

“Like a weapon?” Armada broke in, her eyes narrowing at the thought.

 

“Yeah, actually,” Laiserta said, her face lighting up in understanding. “That would fit this really well,” she added, holding up the tablet in her right hand.

 

Armada brought her right fist toward her mouth, like she often did when thinking about something. “Why would rogue Taydran operatives be delivering weapons this way? And where were they taking them?”

 

Laiserta laughed, “They're not rogue, they're definitely operating under someone's orders. And the big guy with the shiner,” she said, glancing toward their captives and then back to her allies, “he speaks Taydran.”

 

“How do you know?” Trunks asked.

 

Laiserta smirked. “I may have said something about his mother in Taydran, and he _definitely_ didn't like it,” she grinned darkly.

 

“Anyway, let's get out of here,” Armada broke in. “I'll finish setting this ship's course, you two grab the tablets that were part of the delivery and head back to our ship.”

 

Laiserta held up the other tablet, “And I'll be taking this. Maybe if I look over it more closely we can find something interesting,” she added with a smile.

 

“Where are you sending the cargo ship?” Trunks asked, curious as to what his partner had up her sleeve.

 

Armada smirked. “We'll be sending these soldiers back home,” she answered.

  


-+-

  


I tried to keep things a little shorter this time, and add a little more humor, hahaha. Also, I would love a review from anyone who reads this. :]  Thanks for reading!

 


	16. Interlude:  Valencia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter enables Trunks to learn more about Armada's past, but at a high cost.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made. 

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks was ecstatic to be back in Ute after their last job returning the kidnapped couriers to Ceva. All those days dragging through space were awful, although everything about the job was a success. They'd even earned a bonus of two hundred thousand betas for returning the items the couriers were delivering as well. Nobody was hurt – well, the Taydrans were hurt a little bit, but nothing serious – and everyone went home in one piece. He only hoped things would keep going this well.

 

“Thank you,” Trunks answered politely to one of the vendors at the market downtown as he took his change and his bag of fruit. It seemed like he was the only one who did any real shopping between his comrades, but he was okay with that. It meant that he had an excuse to get out of the ship regularly, and if nothing else, that the galley would always be stocked with things that _he_ liked. 

 

Trunks had gone downtown at the wrong time of day though, as it was lunchtime and thus the streets and sidewalks were crowded with people. He tried to navigate carefully, but would occasionally brush into someone. Which was bad because when it came to a collision between himself and someone else, the other person usually didn't fare so well. He mentally scolded himself for not checking the time before heading out.

 

Taking a turn down a wider street to hopefully find more clearance, Trunks kept pressing forward through the crowd. Unfortunately this street was just as crowded as the others, and his walk back toward the ship was slow. A few blocks down this street, someone to his left that was headed in the opposite direction from him bumped into his left shoulder rather roughly. “Sorry,” Trunks automatically replied without looking, and he heard a 'Sorry mate' from the other guy in response.

 

Trunks had to slow his steps as the crowd grew even thicker ahead, and nearly stopped, trying to look over the crowd to see what the problem was. “Hey, wait a minute,” he heard a voice behind him say before a hand landed on his left shoulder from behind.

 

Trunks turned around toward his left, to see a man slightly shorter than him with messy auburn hair and matching eyes looking at him with curiosity. “Don't I know you?” he asked, Trunks now noticing he spoke with a slight accent.

 

It took Trunks a few seconds because he hadn't seen this man in months, but it suddenly came back to him and his eyes widened in shock. “Dax...?”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Interlude: Valencia

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks looked down at his watch again. _Twelve minutes_ , he thought. Just twelve minutes ago he'd run into Dax, the man who robbed Armada and had a hand in starting all of this mess in downtown Ute. And Dax appeared just as surprised as Trunks was at the two of them running into each other – quite literally at that. 

 

“You gonna order anything?” Dax asked, still looking down at the menu in his hands. He then turned his eyes up to catch Trunks's gaze. “'Cause if not, then I'll just order something for you. If you don't eat it the I will; I'm starving,” Dax added before turning his attention down to the menu once again.

 

The pair of them sat at a street-side cafe in downtown Ute, at a table for two in the outdoor seating area. Trunks glanced down at his watch again;  _thirteen minutes,_ he thought. Somehow he'd let Dax talk him into going somewhere to talk, to ' _Sort out this whole mess_ ,' and that was how they ended up here. Trunks wasn't sure why he was doing any of this, but he didn't sense any malice from Dax. Maybe he really wanted to talk. Trunks had watched the Rieve enforcer closely as they walked, and he made no moves that indicated he was signaling someone, and he certainly hadn't used any device to contact anyone.

  
Their server came to the table, and Trunks watched Dax interact with the man closely. Nothing seemed unusual as Dax ordered lunch for the both of them, and Trunks sat in silence. After the server had left, Dax picked up his glass of water and took a long drink before setting the glass back down and looking at his company across the table. “I'm almost afraid lasers are going to come out of your eyes with how hard you're staring at me,” he joked with a slight laugh. “Wait, you can't actually  _do_ that, can you?” he followed up, now slightly concerned.

 

Trunks opened his mouth to speak, and it took a few seconds for him to settle on the right question. “What is this?” he asked.

 

“Lunch?” Dax replied, his eyebrows raising up as he shrugged.

 

“That's not what I meant,” Trunks answered darkly, not appreciating Dax's attempt at humor.

 

Dax sighed and his face fell into more serious lines. “Look, I'm not really your enemy,” he started but found himself cut off.

 

“You're not with Rieve?” Trunks asked sarcastically, still guarded.

 

Dax scowled. “If you want to look at it that simply, then fine,” he said, picking up his napkin in his right hand. “But things aren't that simple, and they're not always what they appear to be,” he added, unfolding his napkin and setting in his lap.

 

“I saw you rob Armada,” Trunks bit back, “or was that not what it looked like either?”

 

Dax leaned forward over the table. “I was trying to solve things diplomatically,” he ground out, “but Ar wouldn't let me.”

 

Trunks scoffed. “So stealing everything she had was diplomacy?”

 

“Considering what Rieve was gonna do to her otherwise, yeah, it was,” Dax retorted darkly. “You don't have to believe me,” he continued, “but I think I know how they operate better than you do.”

 

Trunks was silent for a few long moments as he thought about what Dax had said. Then one question came to mind, “Why were you trying to help Armada?” He didn't think that what Dax did was 'helpful,' but if in his mind it was, then Trunks was interested in the motive. He did know from Armada that she knew Dax prior to his involvement with Rieve. Maybe he could get Dax to tell him about it, if he played along.

 

Dax let out a breath and seemed to calm down slightly. “Because I consider her a friend,” he started. “We were both in the same shithole for a long time together and had each other's backs. I didn't forget about that,” he finished.

 

“She said you served in the military together,” Trunks replied, wondering what Dax's response would be. Trunks didn't know any more than what he'd just stated, and hoped Dax would fill in the missing information.

 

“Hah,” Dax laughed darkly and shook his head. “She said we served in the military together,” he repeated, his eyes looking down at the table. He looked back up at Trunks, “Yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it.” He shook his head again, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

 

Before either man could say anything else, their server arrived with their food, setting down a plate in front of each of them. Trunks thanked the server and he left, leaving the two men to their conversation.

 

“I suppose you could technically call it a military,” Dax said, bringing Trunks's attention back up to him. “I'd say a more accurate description would be a paramilitary group led by one man for no reason other than his personal gain. A group of mercenaries, in a sense, but a lot larger and a lot more organized,” he added.

 

“Valencia,” Dax continued. “That's what it was called. But, as far as I know, it was destroyed almost a decade ago by the Republican military,” he picked up his utensils and started in on his meal. “Supposedly everyone died. I had no idea Ar was alive until she picked a fight with Rieve,” he finished, and proceeded to take a bite of his meal.

 

Dozens of thoughts ran through Trunks's mind at what Dax had just said – he had so many questions and wasn't sure where to start. But something that caught his attention and wouldn't let go was, “How did you end up with Rieve?” He looked at Dax expectantly, waiting to see if he would answer the question.

 

Dax finished chewing a bit of his food and let out a deep breath. His mouth twisted up and he looked up, over Trunks's shoulder and appeared to be deep in thought. “A promise to a friend,” Dax finally said, his eyes meeting Trunks's once more. “Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do to take care of things that we want to take care of. That's cryptic, I know,” Dax said, lowering his head and looking at his plate again. “But that's all I'm willing to say about it. Just know this,” he said, looking up again, pointing his fork at Trunks. “I'm not some true believer when it comes to Rieve, okay? I'm not willing to die to protect it,” he finished.

 

Trunks supposed he understood Dax. He didn't necessarily want to team up with Armada to take on the universe – at least, not in the beginning. But he felt it was something he needed to do to protect others who were important to him. That, and Dax didn't seem like he was lying. Trunks sat silent for a few minutes, and checked his watch again. _Thirty-four minutes_. He wondered what he should do. Should he try and drag Dax back to Armada at the hangar? What would that accomplish? But should he really just sit here and chit-chat with Dax, with the enemy? Was _Dax_ his enemy, or was it Rieve? Was there even a difference?

 

“So,” Dax broke Trunks out of his thoughts. The Rieve enforced swallowed and asked, “You were the one who killed Corvus, right?”

 

Trunks felt like he'd just taken a punch to the gut. Rieve knew that?  _No, of course they know_ , he thought. Why wouldn't they? He didn't know  _how_ they knew, but there was enough technology in use in the universe that he didn't have a clue about for them to have some way of knowing.

 

“It's okay, I know,” Dax cut in when Trunks hesitated to answer his question. “I know it wasn't Ar, she's not nearly strong enough to beat him. But you have a bigger problem now,” Dax said plainly. Without giving Trunks a chance to respond, he continued. “You pissed off the boss pretty bad because Corvus was his best friend,” Dax stated with a sullen look. “He wanted Ar dead before because it looked bad that someone could attack him like that and he'd let them live, but now you've made it personal. He won't stop until you and everyone you know are all dead,” he finished.

 

Trunks absorbed the information while a sick feeling rose up within him. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked, his expression guarded.

 

Dax shot Trunks a slight smile. “I might work for Rieve, but I'm not on his side,” he replied. “Anyway,” Dax continued, “nobody knows who you are, or where you came from. So if I were you, I'd go back to wherever the hell I came from, because the chances of Rieve finding you are pretty slim.”

 

“I can't do that,” Trunks replied, his face growing stern.

 

Dax laughed, “Suit yourself then. But don't say I didn't warn you. Even if you can defeat Corvus, that doesn't mean you can destroy the whole thing. And,” he paused a second, “as far as I know, nobody's stronger than the man himself, though I've never seen him fight with my own eyes.”

 

Dax went back to eating while Trunks thought of what he wanted to know next. “Hey,” he said, catching Dax's attention. “You said Armada picked a fight with Rieve,” Trunks began, “what did you mean by that?”

 

“Hahaha,” Dax laughed heartily. “She blew up a weapons factory owned and run by Rieve,” Dax replied, still slightly laughing. “By herself. A hell of a job she did,” he added, shaking his head. Before either of them could continue the conversation, something started ringing. “Ah,” Dax reached into his jacket and pulled out a phone. “I've gotta take this, shut up,” he said to Trunks before answering the phone.

 

“Yeah,” Dax said immediately. “You've got the location?” he said, and glanced at Trunks briefly. “No, no,” he started and stood up from his chair, “don't do anything until I get there, I'll be there soon.” Dax then quickly hung up his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I've gotta go,” he said, reaching into another pocket to pull out a fistful of cash and set it down the table.

 

“Wait, what are you—” Trunks tried to ask but was cut off.

 

“It's not about you,” Dax broke in. “Well,” he shifted awkwardly where he stood, “I was sent back here to find you and Ar, but the phone call wasn't about you.” Trunks opened his mouth to speak but Dax continued. “Look, I'm trying my best to avoid _finding_ you, so do me a favor and lay low until I can convince the boss you aren't here and get off-world. If Rieve's gonna destroy you and Ar, then I don't want any part of it,” Dax added, his eyes falling away to his side.

 

“Anyway, gotta run!” Dax said, then proceeded to jump over the railing that separated the outdoor area of the cafe from the sidewalk and sprint down the street. In the short time they'd been eating, the streets had cleared up significantly which enabled Dax's quick getaway.

 

Trunks watched him run off, unsure of what to do next. He looked down and Dax had left several hundred betas on the table, more than enough to pay for their meal five times over. Trunks hadn't touched his lunch, but he didn't feel hungry. There were too many thoughts weighing on his mind. Shortly after Dax left, the server came by to check on him, and Trunks used Dax's money to pay the bill and leave, giving the rest to the waitstaff as a tip.

 

 

-+-

 

 

When Trunks returned the ship, he slowly walked into the bridge carrying the groceries he'd purchased in both arms, only giving Armada a passing glance. She was standing at the pilot's console, working on something. If he recalled, she said she was going to do some maintenance on the ship's engines, and the dirt and soot covering her clothes indicated that was exactly what she'd been doing. He didn't stop, and kept walking toward the other side of the bridge to head down the hall to the galley.

 

“You need a hand with any of that?” Armada called out to him from behind, without turning to look at Trunks.

 

Trunks stopped for a moment and thought, before replying “No, I've got it.” He had walked slowly back to the ship, unsure if he would tell Armada about his impromptu lunch with Dax. In that moment, he decided to keep the information to himself, for now, and continued walking to the galley to put the groceries away.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Three days later, Trunks was sitting in the lounge using a laptop he purchased to search for information online about 'Valencia.' At first he wasn't sure of the spelling, but eventually he learned of an old Republican word, _valentia,_ that meant 'power.' It sounded like that was the derivation for the name 'Valencia' and thus, he narrowed down his search terms to just two. Even then, after hours of staring at his computer, he'd found absolutely nothing. He wondered if he would ever find anything.

 

“Hey” Laiserta called out to Trunks, and he looked up at where she stood on the opposite side of the table from where he sat. “Let's go get some dinner,” she said with a nod of her head toward the door.

 

Trunks shut his laptop and looked up at Laiserta with a sly smile. “I thought you preferred your own cooking to everyone else's?”

 

“I do,” Laiserta answered quickly, “but there's this place in Suho Village that serves Taydran food and I want to see if it's any good.” She paused a moment before adding, “It's not a far walk from here, come on.”

 

“Sure,” Trunks said with a laugh before getting up from his seat. He picked up his laptop and the pair walked toward the barracks so he could put it away before leaving. Once they'd disembarked the ship and left the hangar, they walked down the pier and headed toward the center of town. Trunks knew the neighborhood of Suho Village, it was just south of downtown and not a long walk like Laiserta had said.

 

“The sun's setting earlier these days, isn't it?” Laiserta asked as they walked. She was right, as late summer was turning to fall in Ute and daylight lessened as a result.

 

“Yeah,” Trunks replied absentmindedly. He was deep in thought, wondering about Dax, Armada, Rieve, and all of the connections between the three.

 

“Hey,” Laiserta finally said and when Trunks looked up toward her, she was gone. “Over here,” she said and he turned around to find that she'd stopped walking several paces ago. He hadn't realized he was so distracted.

 

“What's up?” Laiserta asked when she approached him. “You're thinking about something really hard,” she added with a smile. “Want some help?”

 

Trunks thought for a moment about what she'd said. “Yeah, actually,” he started, making a decision in the spur of the moment. “I'm trying to find anything I can about a group called Valencia but I'm not making any progress. Think you can help?” he finished.

 

“Sure,” Laiserta replied, “I've got friends who have access to networks housing classified data. What can you tell me about it?”

 

“It's a paramilitary group,” Trunks answered, using Dax's description. He thought for a moment, then said “They operated in the Republic, sometime within the last twenty years. I'm looking for anything, any information about it at all.”

 

“Okay,” Laiserta nodded in understanding. “I'll send the info on to a friend and see what he can dig up. Now,” she started, grinning widely, “you can forget about that and we can go get something to eat because I am starving,” she finished jovially. Trunks laughed in return and they continued on their way.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Oh man, that really hit the spot,” Laiserta said and stretched as she walked out of the restaurant with Trunks following behind her. “Really reminds me of home,” she said, turning back to look at him.

 

“You don't visit often?” Trunks asked and fell into step beside his comrade as the pair started walking back to base.

 

“No, I'm too recognizable,” she replied. “I'm wanted for some stuff back home, so I can't drop in much,” she shrugged.

 

Trunks felt sorry for Laiserta; she seemed really sad about the situation. “Sorry to hear that,” he responded. They approached an intersection and stopped, waiting to cross the street.

 

“Eh, well, it's the shit you deal with when you live this kind of life,” she answered, looking away from him. The light turned and the cars in the street stopped, allowing pedestrians to cross. The pair walked across the street and stopped at the corner, waiting for the next light to cross again.

 

Trunks noticed a news broadcast on a monitor alongside the building they stood next to. He wasn't paying it much attention as the broadcast switched back to local news.

 

“ _A man found dead in his apartment on the east side yesterday morning has now been identified by Utian Metro Police as twenty-six year old Quarry Listern.”_

 

At the mention of the name 'Quarry,' Trunks's head snapped around to the monitor, to see a picture of Quarry displayed on screen. Trunks's face displayed the utter shock he felt as he continued watching.

 

“ _Police have released information about the incident, now classifying it as a homicide. At a press conference today, Utian Metro Police Chief Sal Gordon had this to say.”_ The image displayed change to that of an older man speaking at a podium.

 

“ _The victim was found restrained to a chair with two gunshots to the back of his head. It's clear that this was an execution, and we have reason to believe that the victim had ties to organized crime. Initial medical exams have determined time of death to be sometime in the afternoon or early evening on the ninth, three days ago.”_

 

The image changed back to the news anchor in the studio. _“Utian Metro Police ask that anyone with any knowledge related to the crime please call the CrimeStoppers tip line or the UMP headquarters directly.”_

 

Trunks felt like he couldn't breathe. Quarry, the same Quarry who had helped him more than once, and most importantly when he desperately needed it, had been murdered? As Trunks soaked in the information, the first thing that rose to the top of his swirling thoughts were the words _organized crime_. ' _It's not about you.' 'You've got the location? No, no, don't do anything until I get there, I'll be there soon.' 'He won't stop until you and everyone you know are all dead.'_

 

Laiserta was trying to say something to him, but Trunks couldn't hear her over the rush of blood in his head. He clenched his fists as unshed tears burned in his eyes, and he tried desperately to catch his breath. Dax wasn't lying; he didn't come to Ute for Trunks... he came to kill Quarry. In the moment, Trunks hated himself – hated himself for letting his guard down, for believing Dax, for letting him walk away to murder Q. He should have said something to Armada, if nothing else she would have gone after Dax and they could have stopped this. Instead, an innocent person was dead for barely interacting with Trunks. If Trunks had never asked Murtole for help, he would have never met Q, and Q would still be alive. Trunks hated himself for being so naïve.

 

He promised himself the next time he saw Dax, the gangster wouldn't live to see another day.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Oh poor Q, I really liked him. ;~; Anyway, thank you for reading, and please leave a review – I love all types of feedback. :]


	17. Interlude:  Neis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning of Quarry's death, Trunks is morose. He heads to Quarry's funeral while thinking about the people he left behind on Earth.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made. 

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks slammed into the ground, skidding backwards several feet before he was stopped by a pile of concrete rubble. His sword fell after him, bouncing off of the ground a few times before also sliding to a stop a few meters away from him into the middle of the street. Or at least, what was left of the street.

 

Seventeen landed gracefully ten meters away from where Trunks lay. “Aww, down for the count already?” the android taunted. “I was just starting to have fun,” he added with a smirk.

 

Trunks willed himself to open at least one eye and look at his adversary. He was pretty sure that a couple of his ribs were broken, and the way the left side of his chest screamed in pain he wondered if he had a collapsed lung. At this point, he knew he needed to get away from the psychotic android but he wasn't sure how he was going to manage that when he couldn't find the strength to move.

 

Seventeen started slowly walking towards Trunks. “You do seem to have more spirit than your friend Gohan,” he started. “But he could at least make the fight last a little while to be enjoyable. This is just,” Seventeen finally stopped a few feet away from Trunks's body. “Pathetic.”

 

Trunks scrambled; Seventeen was way too close and he needed to at least get up to his knees. Gritting his teeth nearly to the point of pain, Trunks forced himself to sit up enough to get his left knee on the ground underneath of him. With that, he pushed up enough to get his right foot on the ground, effectively kneeling in front of the android.

 

“I'm flattered, but that wasn't necessary,” Seventeen mocked Trunks now that the demi-Saiyan was in a kneeling position in front of the android.

 

“Hey you emo cowboy prick, over here!”

 

Seventeen's eyes widened in shock as he slowly looked up from Trunks and down the street at the young man who'd just yelled at him. “Excuse me?” Seventeen asked, clearly annoyed.

 

A tall young man with short brown hair and green eyes flashed a smirk at Seventeen. “Yeah, I said it,” he replied, walking toward Seventeen. He had a set of sunglasses resting on the top of his head and some kind of large brown bag hanging at his right hip, strapped across his chest. “I mean, what the hell are you wearing, dude? I'm not sure if you're about to buy some black eyeliner or a set of spurs.”

 

“You stupid humans,” Seventeen said, his eyes narrowing while his mouth twisted into a sinister grin. “Why do you even bother? I can kill you in an instant.” He then proceeded to take several steps forward, toward the man in the street and away from Trunks.

 

_No...!_ Trunks thought in anguish as he listened to the exchange. Occasionally someone would throw themselves in the path of the androids to help him escape, but it always cost them their lives. The thought that this was about to happen again, because he was so pathetically weak, was heart-wrenching.

 

The young man with brown hair kept walking forward toward Seventeen. “Oh wait a sec,” he said and stopped where he was. “I'm kinda hungry, mind if I eat before we do this?” he asked. Confusion flashed across Seventeen's face as the man reached into his bag and pulled out a peach. He immediately took a large bite out of the fruit, chewing away as the android watched in both annoyance and curiosity.

 

“ _Oh,_ sorry man, I'm an ass,” the man said after swallowing hard. “You want one too? I've got plenty to share,” he addressed the android before reaching into his bag for another peach. “Here,” he said once he had the peach in hand, and used an underhanded toss to lob the fruit to Seventeen. The fruit arced high into the air, and Seventeen stood still as he watched it fly up, and then down into his hands almost perfectly.

 

Seventeen studied the fruit curiously for a moment as it felt heavier than he expected. He slowly turned the peach in his hand, noticing that the top of it was cut in a semi-circle but still attached. Finally turning to the other side, he found a metal device sticking out of the end of the peach, that looked like some kind of canister. “Wha—”

 

The android never finished his thought as the peach exploded in his hands, a shockwave of intense light and electricity bursting forth like Trunks had never seen. Trunks's one open eye he was using to watch Seventeen burned, and he clenched both eyes tightly shut in response. That was when he felt someone grab his jacket at the top of his left shoulder and start dragging him.

 

Trunks fumbled along, and all he could hear was someone slowly counting. “Three one-thousand, four one-thousand,” the same young man he'd heard taunting Seventeen chanted as they ran. “Five one-thousand,” he whispered harshly, and Trunks stumbled over something, causing him to nearly fall to the ground. “Six one-thousand,” he heard the man say, and the next thing Trunks knew, he was pushed harshly to the ground and something came up to cover his mouth.

 

Slowly Trunks's vision started to come back to him, and he could see that he'd been dragged into a building by the young man. He didn't appear much older than Trunks, and he had a set of black sunglasses on his face, covering his eyes. Trunks glanced down and realized that it was this man's hand that was covering his mouth.

 

“Don't say anything,” the man whispered and removed his hand from Trunks's mouth. He then reached down into a brown bag he was carrying and pulled out a small device. He flipped the top up and powered it on, and Trunks realized it was some kind of mini-computer. He watched as the young man did something, and suddenly Trunks heard an engine roar not far from their location. Seconds later, he heard Seventeen cursing and the sound of squealing tires, as if someone was slamming on the accelerator to a car.

 

It sounded like the car was driving away from them, and moments later there was a loud explosion. Trunks would know the sound anywhere; it was a ki explosion.  _Seventeen must have fired on the car,_ Trunks thought. He looked down at the computer in the other guy's hands, which was then shut by its owner. 

 

The young man put the computer away in his bag and then raised his sunglasses up, setting them on the top of his head. “You're gonna be okay,” he whispered to Trunks, his green eyes telling Trunks that this wasn't someone he needed to be afraid of. The young man then stood up and slowly looked out of an open window. “Looks like he's gone,” he said quietly but not at a whisper, and then looked back down at Trunks.

 

“Come on,” the man said and pulled Trunks up by his jacket into a standing position. Trunks wanted to scream at the pain, but managed to hold it in. The brown haired man then looped Trunks's right arm around his neck and used his left arm to help support Trunks against the left side of his body. “I had to sacrifice my car so we're gonna have to walk,” he explained and started moving, nearly dragging Trunks with him.

 

Once they'd walked outside of the building and back into daylight, Trunks clenched his eyes shut. The sunlight burned; it was far too bright.

 

“So where are we going?” the man asked, and Trunks still couldn't open his eyes to look at him.

 

“Capsule Corporation,” Trunks managed to choke out weakly.

 

“You're in luck,” the man laughed, “that's about the only place I know how to find in this city.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Interlude: Neis

 

 

-+-

 

 

After discovering that Quarry had been murdered, Trunks returned to the ship and puked in his bathroom. That night, he couldn't sleep. He was exhausted but his mind wouldn't rest, and his heart was heavy. If he had never met Q, then he'd likely still be alive. Additionally, Armada would be dead. Was this the nature of life? Someone had to die so someone else would live? He'd had his share of brushes with the true nature of causality, considering he had traversed time and the universe itself to witness how events would unfold under different circumstances. Yet he didn't understand it any better than anyone else.

 

Unable to sleep, Trunks did some research online to find that Q was going to have a funeral the next day. After that, he tried to sleep and did manage to lose track of a few hours which he assumed were due to sleep, but he was so exhausted he wasn't sure. By the time morning rolled around, he finally decided to get out of bed and shower. He was lucky in that no one was paying attention when he left.

  
Trunks knew when he left that he had nothing to wear to a funeral... nor did he know what was appropriate for a Bmyhadian funeral. He'd never attended one. Which was almost odd for him to think about, considering the number of funerals he'd attended on Earth. While the nightmare was over, it wasn't easily forgotten. At least not for him.

 

Despite the early hour, many shops in Ute were already open. Trunks found his way into one that appeared to specialize in men's suits. He really had no idea what he needed, or if he could even get something only hours before the funeral, but he felt that he had to try. Upon walking inside, he found himself in what appeared to be a very nice and very upscale shop. He was almost afraid to step onto the carpet for fear of leaving a stain, when a woman approached him.

 

“Good morning sir, what can I help you with today?” she asked jovially. She had light blue eyes hiding underneath black glasses, and light blonde hair pulled back away from her face.

 

“Ah,” Trunks hesitated and looked down for a moment. “I need,” he looked back up into her eyes. “I need something to wear for... a funeral,” he finished. He hadn't felt quite this awkward in some time.

 

“Oh, I'm very sorry for your loss,” the woman apologized sympathetically. “I'm Rei, and I'm going to do my best to help you out today, okay?” she added with a slight smile. “Now, when are the services?” she asked.

 

Trunks had to think for a moment before he replied. “Forty-five-hundred,” he answered. He always had to think about Bmyhadian time before he spoke about it because he internally translated it to match Earth time.

 

“Today?” Rei appeared surprised. “Well, it's not impossible, but,” she trailed off, crossing her arms over her chest as she thought. She seemed nervous for a brief moment, before she finally spoke. “I'm not sure we have anything in stock, that's... in your size,” she stated nervously.

 

“Oh,” Trunks said dejectedly when her meaning really hit him. “ _Oh_ ,” he said again, suddenly aware all over again that he didn't exactly have the build of the average Bmyhadian. Or human, for that matter.

 

“Rei, I need your help in the back,” an elderly man called out as he approached from the rear of the store. When he noticed she was standing in front of Trunks, he turned and waved her off. “Nevermind, come back when you finish with the customer,” he threw over his shoulder, and Trunks noticed he had an accent he hadn't heard before.

 

“Mr. Mestele, wait!” Rei called out to him. “I could use your help,” she tacked on when he stopped in his tracks.

 

Mestele quickly turned and approached Rei and Trunks. When he stopped next to Rei, he raised a hand to his chin. “Mmm, I see,” he spat. “Get his measurements, we'll start from there,” he finished and turned to leave.

 

“He needs something today,” Rei shot out after Mestele.

 

The elderly man stopped and turned back to Rei with a smirk on his face. “Ah, a challenge,” he said, and wiped his left hand over the top of his bald head. “Why didn't you say so?”

 

Rei smiled at him and turned toward Trunks. “This is Mr. Mestele, he is the master tailor of this shop and the owner,” she explained while still wearing her smile. “Anyway,” she turned back toward her boss, “I haven't gotten his measurements yet, but I think the suit that we did last year for Corazon, the thrashball player, might be a good base to work from.”

 

“Ah, my darling Rei, you are correct!” Mestele exclaimed excitedly. “You get the measurements, I'll get the suit out of storage!” he shouted and turned to run toward the back.

 

“It's for a funeral so make sure you grab a replacement chestplate!” Rei called after him. The store was empty this early in the morning, during the typical Bmyhadian work week, and so Rei's voice echoed across the store. She turned toward Trunks, whose face was sullen. Rei reached up and adjusted her glasses. “Very sorry about that, sir,” she said lowly.

 

“Thanks,” Trunks responded lowly, his gaze drifting off into nothing.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Lowell, what the hell were you thinking?!” Bulma shouted, failing to keep her voice down.

 

“I didn't tell him anything,” Lowell spat back defensively.

 

“Then how did he bring Trunks here?!” Bulma countered, her voice starting to grow hoarse from her volume.

 

“I don't know Bulma, you're the one that called me here to scream at me!” Lowell countered. He ran his right hand up through his hair and turned away from her. He didn't want to fight with Bulma, but she was being completely unreasonable at the moment.

 

“Did you know he said he attacked the androids?” Bulma scoffed. “Does he think I'm stupid? No one attacks the androids and lives! Not even,” she choked on her own words, unable to the say the name of her friend's son who had lost his life two years ago. It was still too raw.

 

“Bulma, I don't,” Lowell started, moving closer to her and reaching out to place his right hand on her should. “I don't know what happened,” he continued in a near-whisper. “I wasn't there. But Neis, he's... he's not one to lie.”

 

“No... he's not.”

 

Bulma and Lowell both turned to toward the sound of the voice to see Trunks standing in the hallway at the edge of the living room, leaning against the wall. “Trunks!” Bulma called out to her son and rushed over to help him. She put her right shoulder under his left arm and helped him hobble over to one of the couches in the living room and sit down.

 

“Son,” Bulma said, tears streaking down her face as she hugged Trunks and kissed him on the forehead.

 

“I'm gonna be okay mom,” Trunks replied through a strained breath. “I've had worse.” Bulma stepped back but still her her hands on his shoulders, standing in front of her son. He was all that she had left in this world, and she wouldn't be able to go on if she lost him.

 

“Lowell,” Trunks finally said after a long minute of silence, “you know that guy?”

 

“Yes,” Lowell nodded, “I do.”

 

Trunks thought a moment before he asked, “Can I meet him?”

 

A few minutes later, Lowell had retrieved the young man from outside of Capsule Corporation and brought him inside. Bulma sat at a chair in the living room, sipping coffee in an attempt to calm her nerves. Trunks was still seated on the couch where his mother had left him, and Lowell stood off to the side of Bulma. The man of the hour stood across from Trunks, on the other side of a small coffee table in the center of the room.

 

“What's your name?” Trunks asked.

 

“Neis Redeen,” the young man answered plainly.

 

“Hi Neis, I'm Trunks,” Trunks replied, his mouth slowly forming into a smirk.

 

“Hi Trunks,” Neis replied, a smile forming on his mouth as well.

 

“What did you do to android Seventeen?” Trunks followed up. He heard them talking, but he wasn't facing the right direction at the time to witness everything that had happened. Not to mention that he was blinded by whatever device had exploded.

 

“Uhh,” Neis glanced over to Bulma before his eyes fell back on Trunks. “Well, I took a design from Capsule Corporation that we studied in university,” he began nervously. “For an EMP device, and changed the frequency of the signal, then combined it with a modified flashbang grenade. And,” he hesitated, “shoved it in a peach.”

 

“Anyway,” Neis rambled on, “it messes with their optics and their systems have to do a quick reset to adjust. It only lasts about six seconds,” he finished.

 

Trunks nodded in understanding. Now the counting that Neis had done at the scene made sense.

 

“You've found a way to blind them?” Bulma questioned with nervous excitement.

 

“No,” Neis answered. “Not really. It's a one-time thing. After their systems reboot, they're not susceptible to it anymore,” he finished with a grimace.

 

“How do you know that?” Trunks asked, his curiosity piqued.

 

Neis laughed, “I did it to the blonde bitch. Didn't go so well the second time.” An awkward silence descended upon the room, and after shifting on his feet nervously a few times, Neis decided he'd had enough. “So uh, I'm gonna head out now,” he said and turned to look for a door.

 

Bulma stood up from her seat. “Please, stay,” she began. “I'm going to make dinner and I'd like everyone to stay,” she finished, glancing between both Lowell and Neis. She then turned and headed for the kitchen, and Lowell trailed along behind her.

 

Neis stood awkwardly for a moment before deciding to take a seat next to Trunks on the couch. He sat down slowly, trying his best not to move the furniture much and cause Trunks any pain. The pair sat in silence for several minutes before Neis finally broke the ice. “So your mom's kind of a ballbuster, isn't she?”

 

Trunks immediately laughed, then coughed several times between muttering 'ow.' “Don't make me laugh.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Several hours later, Trunks finished putting on the first alteration Mestele and Rei made. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he looked at himself in the mirror inside the changing room. He was wearing a long black tunic with gold trim split at his sides and in the back. It had a high, wide collar, with a trail of a few buttons leading from his neck to his right shoulder. The pants were also black with small gold accents, and an odd band just under the knee. In a way, the trim made it look like he had a knight's armor on his shins. The whole thing was very surreal.

 

Trunks grimaced when he looked at his face in the mirror. He was still roiling in anger, guilt, sadness and fear. And probably a dozen other emotions in amounts too small for him to identify. He suddenly longed for simpler days. As dark as the majority of his life had been, at least there was a clear enemy in front of him, something to focus all of his frustration on. With Q's death... he only had himself to blame.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

The sound of Rei's voice shook Trunks from his thoughts. He turned and opened the door, walking out of the changing room and toward the seamstress.

 

Rei let out a sigh of relief. “It looks great, I'm so glad,” she said before moving around him. She studied how the fabric fell as she circled him, and by the time she stopped in front of Trunks again, she smiled. “I think we've managed it,” she added.

 

“So,” Rei took in a deep breath, “what color ribbon did you need?”

 

“Ribbon?” Trunks repeated, confusion appearing on his face.

 

Rei's hands closed into fists in front of her. “Right, you're not from here, so you don't know. Well,” she started, hesitating as she thought of how to speak with sensitivity on the matter. “At a traditional Bmyhadian funeral, everyone wears a ribbon. When it's time to lower the casket into the ground, everyone takes off their ribbon and tosses it into the grave. It's viewed as your... final message for the person that's passed.” She took a breath, “And the color of the ribbon indicates the message that you want to send.”

 

Trunks felt uncomfortable about what she'd just described. “Uh, isn't that kind of... personal? To be doing that in front of a bunch of people—”

 

“Oh, it's a no-judgment thing,” Rei replied, waving her hands in front of her. “I know it sounds weird, but trust me, you don't want to go without a ribbon. Whatever message you send isn't as nearly frowned upon as if you don't send one at all,” she finished, looking at Trunks pointedly from underneath her glasses.

 

“Okay,” Trunks conceded, his eyes looking around the room before settling back on Rei. “So what color do I need?” he asked.

 

“The easiest way to do this,” Rei reached up and adjusted her glasses, “is for you to tell me what kind of message you want to send. Because there are too many scenarios for me to describe to you for you to figure out which one applies.”

 

Trunks sighed and his eyes fell away from Rei, but his gaze turned inward. “I'm sorry,” he said lowly. “I want to say I'm sorry.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Wow,” Neis said, wide-eyed as he walked through the one and only Bulma Briefs's lab. “Your mom has some pretty cool stuff down here,” he admired aloud, stopping to take a look at a multi-tool sitting out on one particular work bench.

 

“Yeah well, she's kind of a big deal,” Trunks replied with a laugh from his seat at one of the other work benches in the lab. He'd just met Neis last week when the crazy bastard rescued Trunks from Seventeen on the streets of Grandview, one of the older neighborhoods in West City. Trunks wondered if he was drawn to Neis because he had no other friends his own age since Gohan was killed two years ago. But Neis had a mind for science and engineering, so maybe they had more in common than the demi-Saiyan was willing to admit.

 

“So you guys spend a lot of time down here?” Neis asked, setting down the multi-tool and actually turning to look at Trunks.

 

“Yeah,” Trunks replied, still slouched with his back resting against the edge of the table behind him. “Mom's working on something that will hopefully help us defeat the androids,” he added. Neis didn't need to know that 'something' was really a time machine, so Trunks left that particular detail out. Even if Neis knew who he was and what he could do, that didn't mean that Trunks had to tell him _everything_.

 

“How do you know Lowell?” Trunks suddenly asked. It was something that he'd wondered about since the night when Neis introduced himself.

 

“Ah, the old man was a literature professor at Northern Reserve University in North City, where I'm from,” Neis started, making a point to find a screwdriver particularly interesting and thus avoid his new friend's gaze. “I was a student there along with my older sister, Elise. She actually knew professor Maxwell before me, because she had his class her first year. There was a bad attack on North City a few years before that which killed our parents,” Neis explained, twisting the screwdriver around in his hands.

 

“Anyway, Elise got to know professor Maxwell because she hated writing essays and went to all of his office hours. He found out that we were orphans and just... tried to help out, I guess. It's not like we moved in with the guy and his family, you know?” Neis said, turning to look at Trunks and laugh. “And it wasn't that long ago that the government kept telling us to live normal lives,” he muttered softly.

 

“So I'm sure you already know,” Neis turned toward Trunks again, “about how North City got leveled back in January.” He studied the young Briefs and received a solemn nod in response. “Anyway, ah,” Neis hesitated. “Elise was killed, and so was professor Maxwell's family. He had a wife and two kids,” Neis said lowly. “He was leaving town when we ran into each other,” Neis continued, his gaze losing focus as the memories replayed in his mind. “I had just buried my sister, but Lowell's family was just... gone.” Neis let out a deep sigh and stayed quiet for a moment. “Anyway, Lowell convinced me to go with him to West City. He said, 'They're putting up some kind of defense there,'” Neis said, imitating the professor's deeper voice, “'I don't know how, but anything's better than staying here at this point.'”

 

Trunks didn't need to hear any more to know what Neis meant when he said ' _gone_.' That was what happened when someone was vaporized by ki – there was nothing left. It was very traumatizing to people who survived because they couldn't find closure, they couldn't put their loved ones to rest. Trunks understood Neis's grief, and he thought he might have already known the answer to the question he was going to ask, but he wanted to know if Neis would actually admit to it.

 

“Why do you bother trying to fight the androids?” Trunks asked. Neis turned his attention back to Trunks and looked a little surprised at the question. “They could kill you without even trying,” Trunks added. Maybe Neis already knew that, but maybe he needed to hear it from someone who knew better.

 

The twenty-one-year-old laughed and looked down, thinking about what he wanted to say. After a long silent minute, he looked back up at Trunks. “My family is dead; all of my friends, everyone and everything I knew is gone,” he started. “I don't care if those assholes kill me if I can give them a little bit of grief before I go. Besides,” Neis laughed darkly, “if there really is an afterlife, maybe I'll get to see my parents and sister again.”

 

Trunks's gaze fell to the floor and his mood went with it. Neis wasn't alone in how he felt; by this point, Trunks was sure that almost all of what remained of humanity shared his sentiment. Everyone had lost someone, and everyone wondered if they were better off following their loved ones in death instead of living in constant fear. Not to mention the other issues that the collapse of society brought on—disease, crime, hunger, and violence, among others.

 

It was people like Neis and Lowell that Trunks had failed. The two of them had lost everything and had little to hope for. He looked up and Neis had found something else to investigate in the lab, and had turned away from Trunks and their conversation. Trunks suddenly felt more determined than he had since Gohan had died. He had to stop the cybernetic monsters to save the human race, but also to save the souls of people like Neis who'd completely lost hope.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The cemetery was several kilometers from the tailor shop downtown, but Trunks decided to walk anyway. He had enough time to take a slow pace, and the weather was cool enough that he wouldn't show up a sweaty mess. Rei had helped him tie back his hair into a braid, because apparently it was rude to wear it down, and she had also helped him tie a knot in the yellow ribbon he carried in his right-hand pocket.

 

Quarry's funeral had already begun as Trunks approached the small gathering of people. Someone in front of the casket, a priest Trunks supposed, was speaking lowly to the group of mourners gathered around the grave. Suddenly Trunks realized that he wasn't sure he was in the right place, considering the cemetery was quite large and this was the first group he'd happened upon. He stayed toward the back when he noticed someone up near the front that he recognized. Murtole was standing close to the casket, his head down as he appeared to stare at it while the priest droned on. Trunks shifted slightly, trying to get a better look at his friend's face through the crowd because something seemed off.

 

“Trunks, right?”

 

Trunks nearly jumped when he heard a woman say his name from behind him. He turned to his left to see a young woman with long, light brown hair and darker brown eyes finish taking a step closer to him. She smiled warmly to him, “It's okay, Elric's told me about you. I'm his older sister, Eleanor.”

 

The earthling had to think for a moment to remember that Murtole's first name was Elric. “Ah, nice to meet you,” Trunks attempted to recover but nearly stumbled over his words. He held out his right hand toward Eleanor. “Despite the circumstances,” he tacked on as she took his hand and shook it.

 

After releasing his hand, Eleanor took another half step forward and stood next to Trunks to his left. She didn't say anything else, but gaze focused on her brother in the front of the group. The pair stood in silence for a moment when someone began crying out, clearly upset over Quarry's death. Looking forward in the group, Trunks quickly realized it was Murtole who was crying uncontrollably, having fallen to his knees while an older man attempted to console him.

 

Eleanor sighed heavily next to him, and when Trunks looked back at her he could see her eyes watering up significantly, though she didn't cry. “It's going to be really hard on him,” she said sadly, not breaking her gaze from her brother.

 

“It's hard to lose a friend,” Trunks replied, thinking of Gohan when he said the words. When he thought about Gohan's funeral, he remembered crying much the same as Murtole was doing.

 

Eleanor laughed slightly before looking up at the much taller Trunks. “You don't know, do you?” The blank look on his face told her the answer. “Quarry wasn't Elric's friend, he was his boyfriend.” Trunks's eyebrows rose in surprise, and Eleanor continued. “Well, they weren't together currently as Quarry had broken it off a few months back, but they'd been serious for a few years. We all thought they'd eventually get married.” She turned and watched her brother again as the same older man with dark hair slowly led Elric away from the ceremony.

 

Trunks felt sick. He'd killed Murtole's lover? His guilt over Q's death was bad enough, but knowing this made it ten times worse.

 

“They met back in college,” Eleanor continued without any prompting. “Quarry never lived on exactly the right side of the law, so when Elric started his post-graduate work with NSTF,” she trailed off. “Well, Quarry didn't want his... _lifestyle_ to hurt Elric's career. That was what he told me, at least, and I don't think he had any reason to lie.” She turned to look at Trunks, who was now staring down at the ground in front of him, his face ashen. “They still spoke, although Q was trying to keep his distance. I think he knew something like this could happen and was trying to spare Elric's feelings.” Eleanor smiled again, and this time tears ran down her face. “It doesn't mean we won't miss him, though,” she said sadly, trying to force a smile through her tears.

 

Trunks glanced at Eleanor and immediately regretted it, and he felt that familiar burning sting behind his eyes as he fought to keep his composure. The day was hard enough as it was, but the additional knowledge he now had made it immeasurably worse. The two of them remained silent through the rest of the priest's speech. When it ended, everyone milled about while the casket was lowered into the ground. The mourners then began approaching the open grave and tossing colored ribbons in. Trunks was relieved that Rei wasn't kidding with him when it came to the ribbons. He fell into a makeshift line, and was one of the last to approach the grave.

 

He looked down into the grave and saw a myriad of colored ribbons, some with intricate knots tied into them. Trunks pulled out the ribbon Rei had given him; it was a deep yellow color, with three loops knotted together and the rest of the ribbon trailing from where they intersected. He tossed the ribbon into the grave, and quickly stepped back to make room for others. Taking a few steps away from the grave, he looked out into the cemetery. On a road farther down the hill, he noticed a few people standing by a parked car that appeared to be looking at the gathering at Quarry's funeral. He saw one of them get into the back of the vehicle and two more get into the front. Trunks didn't think much of it since his mind was filled with other thoughts, and turned to head for the exit.

 

Walking back up the hill with his hands in his pockets, Trunks was lost in thought. His gaze was turned toward the ground, only watching the next few feet in front of him as he walked. When he made it back up the hill and only had another thirty feet to leave, he looked up and saw someone standing in the shade of a few trees near the exit. “Armada?” he questioned aloud to himself, recognizing his comrade. She appeared to be waiting for him, so he made his way over.

 

“What are you doing here?” Trunks asked when he'd met up with his partner. She was wearing her armor with a cropped black jacket over it.

 

Armada took a few steps forward to meet him. “Lai said you were upset yesterday after seeing something on the news. I did some digging and saw the story about him,” she explained, nodding her head toward Quarry's grave site.

 

Trunks was confused. “I don't understand,” he started, “how did you know about Q?”

 

An emotion that Trunks couldn't place flashed across her face and she shifted on her feet. “He introduced himself to me.”

 

_Armada read through the ship's security logs with an intense visage. Files had been added and altered, but nothing appeared to be broken, and the intrusion detection systems hadn't picked up anything. She selected several files and prepared to delete them when the system froze. Before she had a chance to investigate, a video comm channel opened._

 

“ _I wouldn't delete that if I were you,” a man with curly black hair and glasses said quickly._

 

_The shock on Armada's face quickly descended into anger. “Who—?!”_

 

“ _A friend. A friend of a friend, actually,” he replied. “The name's Quarry but all my friends call me Q. Anyway, I hacked into your ship so I thought I'd upgrade your cyber warfare suite since it was pathetically out of date,” he added with a laugh. “I also added a few attack packages written by yours truly, and some additional decryption heuristics, along with my own proprietary IDS application.”_

 

_Armada opened her mouth to speak but Quarry cut her off again. “Toran couldn't fly your ship, so he asked for my help. That's how you got from Virda back to Bmyhad. Someone as smart as you must have thought about how that happened, right?” Armada stared in shock. “Anyway, sorry for hacking your ship, but I figured it was for a good cause. I'll keep the lines open if you need me. Later!” Q finished cheerily and the connection terminated._

 

_Armada sat in her chair in the bridge, dumbfounded while trying to digest what the hell had just happened._

 

If Trunks hadn't been wracked with guilt over Q's death, he might have laughed at what Armada told him. He did manage a sad smile as his gaze fell away from his comrade.

 

“Anyway, I pulled the police reports. It was definitely an execution,” Armada began flatly, completely unaware of her partner's feelings.

 

“It was Rieve,” Trunks replied lowly, still looking away from her.

 

“I thought so too,” Armada continued, still emotionally clueless to the situation. “But that means they've brought a new team into Ute, because the Utian cell was destroyed a while ago.”

 

Trunks shot Armada a stern but curious gaze. “How do you know that?” he asked, suspicious of his partner. Armada stared back at him but said nothing, which told him exactly what he suspected. “When?” he finally asked.

 

“Two months ago,” she replied flatly.

 

Trunks thought for a moment. Two months ago would have lined up with the night she came back to the hangar badly beaten. That was also the night before she went off to fight Corvus. It would explain how she knew where the assassin was and that he was coming for her. Besides all of that, Trunks knew that Rieve had brought someone in, since Dax was the one who had killed Quarry. Even so, Trunks still didn't want to tell her about his run-in with Dax.

 

“Anyway,” Armada said, reaching into an inside pocket on her black jacket to pull out her phone. She quickly brought something up on the screen and held out the device to Trunks. “There's something you should know about your friend.”

 

Trunks took the phone from her, and on the display was a picture of Quarry's face and a bunch of information about him, including his last name—Listern. Trunks was about to ask what the point was when he was cut off.

 

“Quarry Listern, twenty-six years RST,” Armada began. “His mother died from an illness when he was a young child. His father died last year in what the Utian police called a 'gang related incident,'” she paused for a moment and Trunks looked up at her, taking his gaze away from the information in his hand. “His mother's maiden name before she married his father was Orelnenn,” Armada added, trailing off.

 

“The same...?” Trunks started to ask but his voice died off.

 

Armada nodded. “The Orelnenns are enemies of Rieve. Quarry was a tech expert and could hack into almost anything. He was a problem for Rieve, outside of anything he did for us,” she finished.

 

Trunks didn't know what to say. Was Armada trying to _console_ him? _No_ , he thought and shook his head slightly. She was stating her own opinion on the matter, it didn't have anything to do with him. Regardless of the reason why Rieve murdered Quarry, they still did it, and Trunks was going to make them pay. He looked at Armada for a moment and considered telling her about Dax. She took her phone back from his hands and he lost his nerve. What good would it do now, anyway? She'd be angry and Quarry would still be dead.

 

“Let's go,” Trunks stated bitterly and walked away from his comrade toward the street. He was emotionally drained and just wanted to forget about the day's events.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground hard caught Trunks's attention. He turned to his left to see a case of beer had been dropped next to him. He looked up and saw Neis carrying a few bottles of what he guessed were other types of alcohol. Neis shot Trunks a conspiratorial grin before he plopped down next to his friend in the grass.

 

“What's all of this for?” Trunks asked cautiously. He was just fine by himself, sitting on the Capsule Corporation lawn and looking at the night sky. The summer weather was perfect, and it was the first time in a long time that Trunks had looked at the stars and wasn't looking _for_ the androids.

 

“The celebration!” Neis exclaimed and looking at his best friend as if he was crazy for even asking the question. Trunks had returned from his trip to the past just four days ago. The day he'd returned, the androids attacked nearby and Trunks gleaned their location from a radio station that was still broadcasting. He flew to them and killed them with little fanfare. But that didn't stop his friends and family from trying to force festivities upon him.

 

“Besides,” Neis said as he pulled a bottle of beer from the case he'd dropped down between them, “you're legal to drink now, right?”

 

Trunks sighed. Neis didn't know about the time machine until after Trunks had returned from the past the second time. That secret had been well kept, except this last trip to the past blew his cover. After spending two years in the Room of Spirit and Time, Trunks was two years older, and it showed. He had Bulma cut his hair before he left the past, but he was taller and according to his own mother, his features had 'matured.'

 

When his friend Neis had first seen him yesterday since Trunks had returned, his immediate reaction was _“What the hell happened to you?!”_ Trunks couldn't blame him, and it was a conversation he couldn't avoid. He confessed to Neis everything that he'd been keeping from his friend, and everything that had happened. Neis took it all in stride, but was also desperate to ask Bulma about time travel. Trunks wasn't sure if he'd done so yet, but he knew his mother would love to teach Neis all about it.

 

“Here, drink,” Neis ordered, shoving a beer into Trunks's chest. Trunks took the bottle from his friend's hand and twisted off the cap. He wasn't sure about this, but why not? It wasn't as if he had to worry about being too tipsy to deal with the androids.

 

Trunks took a long drink, which was a mistake. He pulled the bottle away from his lips and grimaced as he swallowed the bitter liquid. “People actually like this crap?” he asked with a slight cough.

 

Neis laughed. “It's not so much about the taste, but more about the effect,” he answered. He turned and picked up a different bottle, this was much larger and had a different label on it. Neis unscrewed the cap and handed it to Trunks. “Try this, it might be more up your alley.”

 

Trunks took the bottle and quickly read the label. It was a type of whiskey, and the smell didn't instill much confidence in him. He decided to go for it, and took a small sip from the bottle. The whiskey burned a little on the way down, but the taste wasn't nearly as bitter as the beer.

 

“Not bad, right?” Neis asked, barely containing a smile.

 

Trunks nodded, smiling back at his friend. “It's all right.”

 

An hour later, the first whiskey bottle was gone and Trunks was entirely at fault. He was halfway through the second, while Neis had stuck to beer alone. Trunks had an inkling that he could burn off the effects of the alcohol if he really wanted to, but he didn't. Being intoxicated was somehow... _pleasant_. It was as if all of the thoughts and worries that clawed at the back of his mind at all times were suddenly silent.

 

“So what,” Neis stopped and burped, raising his right hand to face in a lame attempt at manners. “What are you gonna do now?” he asked, his words coming out a little slowly.

 

“What?” Trunks asked, blinking at his friend. It was hard to look at Neis, because Trunks felt like he wanted to fall over where he sat.

 

“Y'know,” Neis started again, “there's no more psychotic toasters so,” he trailed off. “So, what now? You spent all your time fighting th-them, so... you know?”

 

When his friend was talking, Trunks took another long drink of whiskey. He swallowed hard and took a moment before he replied to Neis. “I dunno,” he said plainly. “It's like, when I killed them, I killed me too,” he started, looking down at his hands. “My whole life has been about stopping them, so it's like, my life is over?” he finished, his voice rising as if he were asking a question. He wasn't sure who he was asking, though. “I mean, I gotta kill Cell,” he hastily added, “but that's like three years from now and it'll be easy anyway because I know he's going to come after me.” Trunks looked back at Neis and gave and awkward shrug.

 

“Naw man,” Neis answered, then finished the last of the beer he was holding before setting the bottle down on the ground next to the other empty bottles. “You've got, like, _everything_ ,” Neis stated while gesticulating widely with his arms. “Your mom's a super hot genius, you're rich, you could probably get any girl you wanted, you're smart too,” Neis shrugged back at him. “Y-you can like, rule the world and shit,” he finished with a laugh.

 

Trunks stared at Neis while he thought about what his friend just said. He did have a lot of advantages over any other person on the planet. There were probably a hundred, no, a _thousand_ potential paths for him to take, but he couldn't see them. He wondered why it seemed so obvious to Neis but so clouded to himself. Another thought came to Trunks and after thinking on it for a solid minute, he spoke. “Wait... did you just say my mom was hot?”

 

 

-+-

 

 

The day after Quarry's funeral, Trunks's mood was still morose. He'd planned on just avoiding Armada and Laiserta, and Armada made that easy for him since she'd left that morning. He had no idea where she went, he was so out of it he couldn't recall what she'd told him. Laiserta was the more difficult of the two anyway, as she was more likely to talk to him about what was going on.

 

Trunks walked to the galley to get something to eat; despite not feeling hungry he knew he needed to eat something. If there was one skill he'd gained from surviving the terror of the androids, he was able to eat even when he had no appetite. He knew how important it was to refuel, to be ready to fight at the drop of a hat. He wondered if his life now required the same level of constant vigilance. It didn't seem like a bad idea, at the least.

 

He attempted to walk through the lounge without incident, but Laiserta was sitting at the table eating when she spotted him. “Hey,” she called out, “I made dinner, there's plenty left if you're hungry.”

 

Trunks kept walking and didn't stop to look at her. In the galley, he found that she wasn't kidding when she said there was 'plenty left.' She could have fed twelve people with everything sitting out on the counter. Everything was still relatively warm so she must have just finished a short time ago. He gathered up some food on a plate, grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and went to the lounge to have a seat.

 

Laiserta didn't say anything when he sat adjacent to her at the only table in the lounge. Trunks started to eat in silence, and Laiserta kept quiet for several minutes. Finally, she decided to start a conversation.

 

“You'll be okay,” she said sympathetically.

 

Trunks looked up from his food and shot her a glare. He would be okay? Yeah, obviously, considering he was alive and his friend was dead.

 

“I know it sounds dumb,” Laiserta cut in. “But it's true. When bad shit like this happens, you can let it destroy you, and you can lay down and die. Or,” she shifted in her seat, and her tone lightened, “you can keep going. Your friend probably wants you to do the latter,” she finished.

 

Trunks wanted to tell her to shut up and screw off, but the bluntness of her words reached him. As fatalistic as what Laiserta said had sounded, it was true to a certain degree. He could let Q's death eat him up, or he could move forward. At least in moving forward, he could destroy Rieve and at least partially avenge Q's death. Even though Trunks did not fire the gun that killed Quarry, he was certainly partly responsible for drawing him to Rieve's attention. That, Trunks could not avenge, but only ask forgiveness.

 

“Anyway,” Laiserta said, rising from her seat and picking up her dishes. “I'm not good at this motivational crap, so that's all I've got for you. Consider yourself lucky,” she said with a smirk before leaving the lounge.

 

Trunks thought about what Laiserta said. But more than that, he thought about the strategy going forward. He and Armada had not developed their plan to attack Rieve, and he was going to approach her about doing just that. It would easier to 'move forward' if there was a target to move toward.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“So what'd you do this week?”

 

Trunks took a drink from the bottle of beer in his hand right when Neis had asked him that question. “Mom had me help setup the network at WCU,” he answered. “They had some old routers and switches, but they were pretty badly damaged. I installed a bunch of new equipment and ran new cabling to several labs. There's still a lot of cable runs to be done but I showed one of the students who's volunteering to manage the servers how to do it, so they'll be okay. They still have a month to get ready, anyway,” Trunks finished, and then took another drink.

 

Neis sat on a recliner to Trunks's right as the pair of them watched an old monster movie on the television in the upstairs living room in the main house. “Yeah Lowell's about ready to lose his mind, trying to get everything ready for the start of classes,” Neis laughed in between drinks of his own beer. “I don't think he intended to become the dean, but Mrs. B suggested it and it kind of stuck.”

 

“Yeah, she's good at that,” Trunks laughed darkly. It was a secret skill that people didn't realize she had until they'd already been duped into doing something she wanted. Trunks wondered briefly if that's how she got together with his father, and then shuddered at the thought.

 

“I know you're not enrolled or anything, but just hanging around the university might, I don't know, introduce you to some ladies?” Neis added with a pointed smirk.

 

“Dude, no,” Trunks started.

 

“You need to make an effort to meet someone,” Neis cut in. “It's not like the woman of your dreams is gonna fall into your lap,” he spat sarcastically. “Unless,” Neis leaned forward in his chair, a devious smile appearing on his face, “you already have someone you like, so you don't want to meet anyone else.”

 

Trunks let out an irritated sigh, his mouth settling into a scowl. “No. Don't start with this again, seriously,” he stated with a hint of anger in his voice.

 

“Aw come on,” Neis flopped back in his chair, exasperated. Suddenly Neis's face lit up with another idea. “Wait, are you gay? I mean, it's cool if you are, but I'm just wondering,” he trailed off.

 

Trunks choked because he'd chosen the wrong moment to take another drink. “What?! No!” Trunks shouted, and he could feel his face heating up in embarrassment.

 

“Okay okay,” Neis backpedaled. “I thought since we've known each for what, seven years now I would have known but,” Neis shook his head. “Anyway,” he redoubled his efforts, “is there someone you've interested in? Just a little? Come on man, live a little!”

 

Trunks sat forward in his seat, setting his elbows on his legs. He debated actually saying anything to Neis, knowing that his friend was too close to the situation. Then again, that could help him. There was someone he was interested in, but he'd mostly tried to stuff his feelings down and get rid of them. It wasn't as if he was head over heels for the woman, but there was something there. He sighed, then looked at his friend. “Someone... has my attention,” he started, now suddenly feeling incredibly juvenile.

 

“Do I know her?” Neis immediately asked.

 

_Yeah_ , Trunks thought bitterly.  _It's your dead sister's best friend_ . He wouldn't phrase it like that, but it was certainly true. “It's, ah,” he hesitated. “It's Corrine,” Trunks finally said, his eyes falling away from Neis's for a moment before he looked back up.

 

Neis appeared stunned for a long moment. Then he suddenly threw his head back and fell into a fit of hysterical laughter. Trunks's face immediately fell into a frustrated scowl. “You asshole,” he said over Neis's laughter. He knew Neis could be kind of a jerk sometimes, but he really hadn't expected it in that moment. Trunks downed the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the floor by his feet.

 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Neis said between laughter as he finally started to calm down. He wiped at tears that had formed in his eyes. “You just,” he took a deep breath. “You have the worst luck,” he finished, shaking his head.

 

Now Trunks was confused. To his knowledge, Corrine wasn't dating anyone. “What do you mean?” he asked earnestly.

 

“Ah, how do I put this,” Neis said, glancing around the room as he thought. He finally looked his friend in the eyes and said, “Corrine doesn't play for the same team as you,” he said slowly. Trunks stared back at Neis and blinked, and Neis realized that what he said had gone over Trunks's head. Neis had a few beers by this point, and lost his patience and sense of tact. “She doesn't like dudes, man.”

 

“Oh,” Trunks said automatically. The true meaning of Neis's words hit him, and he added another “ _Oh_ ” as his eyes widened in understanding.

 

“Look, people don't really know, so, don't say anything,” Neis waved his right hand as he spoke. He saw that Trunks was still annoyed, and suddenly felt bad. “I'm sorry man,” Neis added, his mood dropping.

 

Trunks shrugged, though his face still showed some disappointment. It wasn't as if he was heavily invested in the idea of dating Corrine, but the rejection still stung, even if it wasn't directly from her. “Anyway,” Neis broke into Trunks's thoughts as he stood from his seat. “I'm gonna go get some more beer,” he added while shaking his empty bottle.

 

Neis left the room and Trunks slumped back into his seat, sighing heavily. Little did he know that two weeks later, he would take a routine trip to Bmyhad that would change everything.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, I am starved for feedback!

 

-Silvia


	18. Mission 10:  High Society

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After accepting a mission to track down and retrieve a weapons dealer at a high-end ball, Trunks has to face his toughest challenge yet - learning to dance.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made. 

 

 

-+-

 

 

Alphonse Drouet had just opened his locker to change out of his gear when someone approached him from behind.

 

“Al, buddy! What's going on?” Nassas Reine asked in that overly-annoying-and-optimistic tone of his, and simultaneously slapped his hand down on Drouet's right shoulder. Drouet sucked in a tight breath; Nassas had managed to hit him right on an injury. An injury he'd incurred two weeks ago at the hands of a Taydran assassin on a mission that was off-the-books. So he had to pretend he was completely fine, and suppress the urge to punch his irritating comrade in the face.

 

Luckily, Reine didn't hold onto Drouet's shoulder very long. Nassas stepped to the side to get a better look at his friend. “Haven't seen you in a few weeks; have you done anything fun?” Nassas asked cheerily.

 

“Not really. I had a mission handed down from Admiral Malketh,” Drouet replied. He knew that the easiest lies to tell were the ones that had some truth in them, because it would be easier to remember later on. He turned to face Nassas. “Had to rescue these three activists, kids really,” Alphonse explained, “who'd crossed into some bad territory in the Republic. They were picked up by pirates, so we had to board their ship and get them out there. These kids were so freaked out, we had to give them some meds to calm down on the way back,” he finished with a slight laugh.

 

“Everyone make it out okay?” Reine asked in earnest.

 

“Yeah everybody's fine,” Drouet replied, knowing that Reine was mostly referring to the team that he led. Drouet started unbuttoning his shirt and turned back toward his locker.

 

“Good,” Nassas replied in relief. His expression changed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I still think that's crap though, I mean, why do we have to take orders from the navy?” he asked, clearly perturbed.

 

Drouet shrugged, and had to keep from wincing because the action caused quite a bit of pain. “I don't know, I just follow orders,” he added, hoping that Reine would get bored with the conversation and leave him alone.

 

Reine scoffed and shot Drouet a sympathetic smile, “Don't we all.”

 

Just then, a tall, middle-aged Taydran man wearing a mostly-black military uniform walked into the armory. “Reine,” he barked out, “I've got something for you.”

 

Both Nassas and Alphonse turned to see their unit leader, Commander Tresia standing a few meters away. “Uh, yes sir,” Reine replied and approached the commander.

 

Tresia adjusted his glasses before handing Nassas the tablet he was carrying. “We've got orders from the top, so this is a high priority,” he began.

 

“Whoa,” Reine said after looking over the information briefly, “these are the same mercs I ran into a while back.”

 

Drouet had been present for that operation and knew exactly who Nassas was talking about. He turned toward the pair and took a few steps toward them. “Sir, I'd like to take this mission—” Drouet began.

 

“No,” Tresia cut him off. “I have something else I need you and the other members of _Zettei_ squad on,” the commander explained in that terse, direct manner he often used.

 

Drouet inwardly grimaced. If this was about the mercenaries, shouldn't Admiral Malketh have requested him and his team? Why was Reine getting this assignment? The mercenaries had already seen his face, so what good could he be?

 

“I don't understand sir,” Reine shook his head and looked up from the tablet. “I've already worked in close proximity to the targets, they'll recognize me in a heartbeat,” he stated, the confusion on his face evident in his tone of voice. Alphonse hoped that Reine's objection might get through and give him the opportunity to take on whatever the mission was.

 

Commander Tresia took the tablet back from Reine's hands. “Walk with me,” he said and immediately turned, heading out of the armory. Reine quickly fell into step behind him, leaving Drouet in the armory wondering what was going on. He watched them leave and made a mental note to talk to the admiral about it.

 

Nassas followed his commanding officer all the way back to Tresia's office, where the Taydran Special Intelligence Agency Deputy Director took a seat behind his desk. Nassas followed suit and sat down in one of the chairs opposite the commander, who then brought up a holographic display on top of his desk.

 

“These orders came down from the Office of the Emperor,” Tresia began, his face stern. “You can't fail me, Reine.”

 

Nassas wasn't shy about showing his concern. “All the more reason I don't understand sir,” he explained.

 

Tresia clicked a few buttons on the keyboard at his desk and the holographic display showed a dossier of information to Reine. “You won't be approaching the mercenaries. Not directly,” the commander quickly amended. The display changed, showing a picture of the two mercenaries in a vehicle with the roof missing, along with a woman with black hair and red eyes in the back seat, holding a sniper rifle. “We have new intelligence that shows that the mercenaries are now working with another mercenary, one that we've had our eye on for some time.”

 

The display changed again, this time to a dossier on the woman in the back seat of the vehicle. Reine thought she looked familiar in the first image, but when the full dossier came up with a more 'normal' picture of her, he instantly knew who she was. “Laiserta?” Nassas said, blinking in shock. “I thought she worked alone?” he asked dumbly.

 

“No, that's incorrect,” Tresia quickly replied. “Her earliest days in operation, she worked with a team based here in Hrimth. So this behavior isn't completely unexpected.”

 

Reine thought for a moment, when suddenly all of the dots connected in his mind. His face lit up and he looked back up at the commander. “She was part of your team, wasn't she?” Tresia's stony visage gave nothing away, but Nassas knew he was right. He laughed. “That's why your name is inside her name, backwards,” he stated more to himself than Tresia. “'Tresia,' three syllables, third syllable of 'Kikulade' is 'la,' take your name backwards and stick in between those letters and you get Laiserta,” he finished. Nassas shot a smirk at the commander, “You must have made a hell of an impression on her. I'd heard that she was part of your undercover unit but I didn't think it was true, she doesn't operate like a military woman. Makes sense if she was part of the group that was _deceived_ by you,” he laughed. “Still, she turned out to be awesome. I mean, the assassinations of all of those high profile docs in prison? And all by herself? Especially what she did at _Villa Purgatorio,_ that was c _razy_!” Reine barely paused to take a breath. “Not to mention that she's got an honorary guild name, 'Death's Shadow,' are you kidding me? They don't give anyone the word 'death' in their name unless they're a certifiable badass, let alone someone who hasn't officially joined! And that's not even _talking_ about her sharpshooting skills—”

 

“ _Reine_ ,” Tresia growled, effectively cutting off his subordinate's rambling.

 

Nassas nearly blushed, and laughed nervously. “Eheh, guess I got carried away, huh?” He looked up at the commander rather sheepishly, silently wishing he could disappear into the chair he was sitting in.

 

“Anyway,” Tresia said sternly with a warning gaze, “you're going to get close to her. Gain her trust, and find the location of where the mercenaries are staying. Once we have that, we'll plan an operation to take their headquarters.”

 

“No offense sir, but I see a couple of problems with that plan,” Reine started. “How am I gonna get to her while avoiding the other two? And second, how am I going to get her to trust me?” He wasn't against the concept of the operation, but it needed more... _finesse_ if it was going to succeed, in Nassas's opinion.

 

“We'll lure her out, separate her from the others,” Tresia replied. “That will give you the chance to approach her. From there, it will be up to you to get the information we need.”

 

Nassas seemed to think for a moment before he spoke. “How do you plan on doing that?”

 

Tresia looked down at the dossier displayed on the hologram in front of him, and studied the picture of the woman in question. “By offering up an opportunity that she cannot resist.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 10: High Society

 

 

-+-

 

 

Sweat slowly ran down the bridge of his nose, but Trunks ignored the slight itch. He had to stay focused; he couldn't move until the time was right. He was in the zone, and this time he was determined to win.

 

Armada crouched slightly before charging at him with a blinding speed. Fortunately for Trunks, he'd started to grow accustomed to how much faster she was than him when they sparred inside the Minovsky field. She tried to strike him with her palm in the abdomen but he was able to step back and block her first strike. She threw several more in succession, driving forward while he stepped back, but she failed to land a hit. Trunks waited for the specific strike he suspected she would use. He had devised a strategy to take her down when she made her move, he just needed enough space to take enough steps back in the cargo bay before he ran out of room. But he knew Armada was aggressive, so it wouldn't take long for her to go for the kill.

 

Armada didn't disappoint; she took a half step forward and threw a fake punch with her left hand. He deflected it and prepared to step forward to catch the right elbow she was about to jam at him. She did as he expected, turning her body and stepping into the space between them with her elbow aimed at the center of his chest. Trunks moved forward and caught her arm with both hands. With no hesitation, he immediately swiped at her feet with his left foot. She jumped back slightly to avoid the hit, which left her unbalanced, just as he'd planned. He released her right arm and threw an uppercut with his left fist.

 

Trunks's punch connected with her abdomen, and as soon as it did the two mercenaries stopped fighting. Armada let out a breath as she stood upright. “Nice work,” she said before she wiped at her mouth.

 

Trunks let out a breathy laugh. “I had to get at least one today,” he teased with a smirk.

 

“I think that's enough for now,” Armada said before turning and moving toward the Minovsky generator.

 

“I'm not done,” Trunks broke in, hoping to stop her.

 

She turned back around and gave him a curious look. “You don't need to push yourself,” Armada stated bluntly. “This isn't about building your endurance, it's about teaching you technique. Once you hit a certain level of fatigue, working beyond that doesn't help because you're too exhausted and you get sloppy.”

 

Trunks's face showed his displeasure, and he shifted his weight where he stood. He tried to think of something to say to counter Armada, but nothing came to mind. Instead he ran his left hand up and over the top of his head; his hair was tied back so it wouldn't fall into his face, but the habit of brushing it back remained.

 

It was only five days ago that Trunks attended Quarry's funeral, and his mood was still sour. He'd asked Armada to train more, and she obliged. Whether she sensed his feelings or not, Trunks didn't care. He just needed something to focus on so he didn't sit around and stew over his own guilt. Besides that, sparring with her was the first time in many years that he'd had an opportunity to really test his skills, and despite how much better at it she was than him, he found that it was immensely satisfying. He chalked it up to the Saiyan blood in his veins, begging for a battle.

 

Armada powered off the Minovsky field and Trunks instantly felt renewed when his energy returned to him. _If only we could keep going_ , he thought. It was a shame they had to keep their energy concealed. If they fought at full strength, scanners in the city of Ute would pick up their energy and draw all kinds of unwanted attention. Then again, it wasn't as if they really had proper space to train at that level without accidentally demolishing something.

 

The pair walked upstairs and were both headed through the lounge when Laiserta stopped them. “Hey,” she started, catching their attention. “I've got something good,” she nearly sang in an excited tone.

 

The trio gathered in the bridge where Laiserta sat in the pilot's seat and brought up a dossier on the main console. “Rickel Luunalt,” she began as a middle-aged man's face was splashed across the main monitor. “Notorious weapons dealer based out of LOKI. Coincidentally, that's who wants us to get him, the government of LOKI,” Laiserta began.

 

Trunks studied Luunalt's photo. He reminded Trunks of Lowell; the arms dealer had the same jawline and the same wrinkles across his forehead as the professor. Luunalt, however, had short salt-and-pepper hair with gray eyes. “For the cool price of one million betas, LOKI is requesting he be returned, unharmed, to stand trial for a whole bunch of crap he did within their borders,” Laiserta explained animatedly.

 

“So he's hiding out in the Republic,” Armada stated. Laiserta thought it was a question at first, until she remembered who she was talking to.

 

“Yep,” Laiserta replied. “If LOKI goes in officially, it can set off a diplomatic incident with the Republic. But if they hire a couple of mercenaries,” Laiserta trailed off.

 

“They can always deny it,” Trunks jumped in, both of his comrades shooting him glances that appeared to be somewhat impressed. “That way they avoid the messiness of violating another nation's sovereignty to go after a criminal,” he finished.

 

“Very astute, wonder boy,” Laiserta smiled broadly at Trunks. “I'm impressed.”

 

“So where's this guy holed up?” Trunks asked, unfazed by Laiserta's comment.

 

“Somewhere in the southeastern Republic, we don't have a clue,” she quickly answered. “But,” she started, “like all rich criminal assholes, he has a hard time laying low. He's got a big party scheduled eight days from now at a mansion in Damas, a city on Farleh.” She paused a moment before adding, “That's a planet in the Republic.”

 

“Thanks,” Trunks deadpanned. There was still much he didn't know about the universe, but sometimes the explanations got old. And annoying.

 

“So we grab him when he's at the party because that's the only time we'll know where he is,” Armada surmised. She was holding her right hand in a fist in front of her mouth, something she often did when she was thinking. “Tell them we'll take the job,” she spoke after a moment of silence. “Start the ship in that general direction. Find all the intel you can on the location, and an hour from now we'll start planning the operation,” Armada ordered. She turned and left the bridge, headed for her room.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Two hours later, the mercenaries sat around the table in the lounge, a tablet in the center between them as they hatched their plan. “I got some high res images,” Laiserta began, and loaded up a file of photos on the tablet. Armada studied each image carefully before moving on to the next one.

 

“Not a large facility, but decent space around it,” Armada summarized what she saw in front of her. “It should be easy enough to conceal the ship nearby and go in on foot.” She reached for the tablet again when Laiserta stopped her.

 

“Wait a second,” Laiserta said and picked up the tablet. “Something's funny about this image,” she said, looking at one of the aerial photos. She flipped through a few images quickly before she found what she was looking for. She snapped her fingers when she found it. “Damnit I hate it when I'm right,” she said, setting the tablet down between them again. Trunks looked at the image, and it appeared to be the same aerial view as the others, but there was a large green sphere surrounding the building.

 

“It's a Minovsky field,” Laiserta explained. “Only certain imagery can capture it like this, but I could see the distortion in the other images.”

 

“It's not surprising, considering the company men like Luunalt keep,” Armada said plainly. She brought her gaze up and looked her comrades in the eyes. “You two will go in as guests and provide both intel and cover for me on the floor, including the location of the target,” she began. “If you can lead him up to the southern balcony on the second floor,” she said, pointing at the satellite image of the mansion, “I can prepare an ambush and wait for him to arrive. From here, we should have a clear trip back to the ship once we make it outside of the Minovsky field.”

 

“No, that's not going to work,” Laiserta said, shaking her head. “I'll take point and wait for the ambush, and you two will go into the party undercover.”

 

Armada's eyes narrowed at Laiserta. “Laiserta, this isn't up for debate,” she spat, clearly frustrated by her comrade's insubordination to her orders.

 

“No, you don't understand,” Laiserta stressed her words, her gaze equally irritated. “Running point is the only thing that I can do on this job,” she cryptically explained. Trunks watched the women argue, confused as to what the real problem was.

 

“Damnit Laiserta, don't argue with me on this!” Armada shouted, now getting angry.

 

Laiserta spared a quick glance at Trunks before turning her attention back to Armada. Saying nothing, she pulled the black glove off of her right hand. With the glove removed, she held up her hand. Trunks's eyes widened, and Armada was equally taken aback.

 

The back of Laiserta's hand was _covered_ in scars. _Surgical scars_ , Trunks thought as he quickly realized the pattern of intersecting lines. Roughly half of the surface of her hand was scarred tissue. She turned her hand around and formed a fist, and when she did Trunks could see that the palm of her hand was just as scarred up as the back.

 

“I can't go to a fancy soiree wearing something that covers me from the neck down, it's too suspicious” Laiserta explained, her tone strong but not a yell. “I also can't walk in there looking like _this_ ,” she said, opening her fist and motioning with her hand. “So,” she stated methodically, “I will take point and capture Luunalt while you two work the floor. Otherwise, I can't help you,” she finished, her tone somewhat bitter.

 

Armada was quiet for a few seconds before responding. “Fair enough,” she finally said, and Laiserta put her glove back on. Trunks realized that Laiserta's scarring must have been from when the synthetic muscles were implanted inside of her. But if that was done when she was a child, why was she still so scarred up? Armada had taken arguably worse hits, and she wasn't wearing a bunch of nasty scars. Trunks knew that wasn't the time to ask about it, and mentally filed away the question for a later time.

 

“I'll get us an invite to the party,” Armada spoke, gathering everyone's attention back to the planning session. “I'll pose as a client looking to outfit a small mercenary group. That will give me an excuse to approach Luunalt,” she continued. “I'll lead him to your location Laiserta, and you can subdue him.” Laiserta nodded, and Armada turned her gaze toward Trunks. “You'll be my bodyguard,” she explained. “It's a good excuse for you to be watching me when I'm walking with the target.”

 

“I think we have the rough makings of a plan,” Laiserta said and stood up, speaking like her normal, jovial self.

 

“Once I get the invite, we can coordinate exactly what equipment we'll need to take,” Armada said, looking at Trunks specifically.

 

“Equipment?” he asked. “I would have thought we couldn't go in with weapons.”

 

“You can't,” Laiserta answered. “She means your outfit,” she added with a smirk before walking away.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“We have a problem,” Armada announced when she walked into the lounge where her comrades sat at the table, eating their dinner.

 

“What's up?” Trunks asked. Laiserta merely looked up at Armada while she finished chewing.

 

“I was able to secure an invitation to Luunalt's party using an alias,” she began, “but the invite indicates that it's a Milanese ball.”

 

“Ooh,” Laiserta said with a cringe.

 

Trunks glanced at her before turning his attention back to Armada. “What's the problem?” he asked, now starting to become worried.

 

“A Milanese ball is very traditional,” Laiserta cut in before Armada could respond. “I can guess that she probably knows a few Milanese ballroom dances to get by, but I'm willing to bet that you don't know any,” she finished, her tone serious.

 

Trunks sighed. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “So now what?” They still had time, as they had only left for Farleh yesterday and still had almost a week before they arrived and about half a day before the party once they landed. Trunks figured they would have to change their plan to something else.

 

“I need you on the floor with me inside the party,” Armada stated bluntly. “Since I'll be interacting with Luunalt, and Laiserta will be busy watching the perimeter from her position, you'll be the only set of eyes we have inside to watch security.”

 

“Yeah but I'm gonna be your bodyguard, right?” Trunks asked. “So I wouldn't be expected to dance with you or anyone else, right?"

 

“No,” Armada replied flatly.

 

“It's disrespectful to bring someone who doesn't know any of the dances,” Laiserta cut in. “People are supposed to dance with people they don't know—it's a way to mingle. So if someone approaches you to dance and you say you can't because you don't know, it's going to draw a whole lot of attention.”

 

“And we don't need the added scrutiny,” Trunks finished answering his own question. He feared what was going to be said next, but he already knew where this was going.

 

“I'll teach you a few basic dances you can use to get by, if you're cornered and you don't have any choice,” Armada explained. “Obviously, do your best to avoid getting pulled onto the dance floor, but we can't leave anything to chance. The mansion will be heavily guarded and we're going in unarmed, in a Minovsky field. There's not much room for error,” she finished.

 

Laiserta started laughing, and Trunks turned his gaze toward her. “This is going to be hysterical,” she said with a smirk.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“This is so boring, I'm out of here.”

 

Laiserta hopped down from the metal crate she was sitting on and headed for the stairs. She had followed her comrades down to the cargo bay to watch Armada teach Trunks how to dance thinking it would be prime entertainment for the evening. Instead it was incredibly boring, and forty minutes in she had given up on anything remotely amusing happening. “Later!” she called out over her shoulder as she trudged upstairs, deciding that the inside of her eyelids was much more fascinating than what was happening downstairs.

 

Trunks let out a frustrated breath. Armada was still trying to teach him the steps to one dance, and he was having a very hard time getting a grasp on the movements. “You're over-thinking this,” Armada said, regarding him with a stern look.

 

“Yeah well there are fifteen steps to start, that's a lot to think about,” Trunks bit back, his frustration at his own inability to catch on both shortening his fuse. Even with Armada, he usually had some measure of patience. But he'd lost most of it in the last forty minutes they'd been working at this.

 

“Here,” Armada said and stepped forward to Trunks and grabbed both of his hands. She put his right hand on her left shoulder, and then set her hand on his shoulder. With her right hand, she held his left hand up, palm pressed against his palm until he complied and held his hand steady. “Think of it as a fight,” she started. “The goal isn't to hit each other; the goal is to stay in step together and the first one who falls out of step first, loses.” She hoped that perhaps making it a competition for him might help him focus. His head hadn't been in it since they'd started almost an hour ago.

 

Trunks tried to follow along with what Armada had proposed. It was difficult, and he still made mistakes, but it had helped quell his frustration somewhat. Whereas Laiserta thought that Armada teaching him to dance would be funny, probably because she thought it would be awkward between the two of them, the reality was different. Armada was stone; trying to learn to dance from her was difficult because it was so counter to what Trunks thought dancing was supposed to be. Not that he'd ever really danced with someone like this, but he thought it would be more like moving with a partner. Instead he was memorizing steps and trying to stay within a rigid box, and lead someone along who didn't need or want to be led.

 

An hour and a half later, the two of them called it quits. Armada explained that she needed to teach him three more dances, as each was appropriate for a specific tempo of music. Trunks was tired and annoyed by the time he'd retreated to his room. This was a lot of preparation for a slight possibility of something happening during the job, but Laiserta was equally concerned. So perhaps it was something he just didn't understand, and he'd need to defer to their opinion on the matter.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The mercenaries had finally made it to Farleh earlier in the day. Laiserta landed the ship in a remote location, though not far from the mansion where Luunalt was holding his party. Now that night had fallen, the plan was for Trunks and Armada to fly into the nearby city and rent a vehicle, then drive out to the mansion. Trunks was wearing a black suit with a white button down shirt and tie underneath his jacket. When Laiserta had recently dragged him shopping, she'd picked it out. It didn't fit really nicely across the back of his shoulders, but otherwise it was right on. Another benefit of her enhanced eyesight, he supposed.

 

Trunks was standing in the bridge, his back toward the hallway behind him. “You ready to go?” he heard Armada ask as her footsteps approached.

 

He turned around to face her. “Yeah,” he replied, a little shocked at her appearance. She was wearing a strapless off-white gown that had some kind of gold lace all over it, gloves that were the same off-white color and a gold scarf that sat across her back and hung on the inside corner of her elbows. She had pulled her hair back into a bun, including her distinctive bangs. She almost looked like a different person, except she still had the same cold, dark blue eyes.

 

They were about to leave, since their departure didn't need to coincide with Laiserta's, but their Taydran comrade stopped them anyway when she approached from the barracks. She was wearing her active camouflage gear, her glasses missing from her face and her black hair pulled back into a long braid. Her expression appeared to be jovial until Armada turned to face her.

 

“I can't believe you two,” Laiserta spat, clearly agitated. Trunks and Armada exchanged confused glances before turning their attention back to Laiserta. “You're wearing a blue tie,” Laiserta began and pointed at Trunks, “and that doesn't match a single thing that she's wearing.”

 

“Would a bodyguard worry about something like that?” Trunks asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Yes!” Laiserta shouted emphatically. “Yes! Oh my god I know you don't know anything but you,” she turned toward Armada, “should definitely know better.” She paused a moment when something suddenly came to her. “And you're not wearing any makeup,” Laiserta said, her eyebrows narrowing in concern. Armada shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Laiserta cut her off. “Are you two _trying_ to get us all killed?” she demanded. “Come here,” she said and grabbed one of Armada's hands, dragging her off back toward the barracks.

 

Several minutes later, the two mercenaries returned to the bridge, Laiserta leading the way. She held out a black tie to Trunks. “Here, use this instead,” she ordered. “You don't have anything that matches her colors so you should just go neutral.”

 

Trunks took the tie from her hand and slowly untied the one he was wearing, preparing to don the new tie. No sooner had he pulled the blue tie down from around his neck, he looked up at Armada and couldn't help the shock that crossed his face. “Whoa,” he said without thinking. Apparently Laiserta had painted some makeup onto Armada's face; it was mostly around her eyes, and it wasn't too severe, but it was certainly a change from how Trunks had ever seen her.

 

“Yeah,” Armada sighed and nearly rolled her eyes. Clearly she wasn't pleased.

 

Trunks started to struggle with the new tie, so Laiserta stepped over to him and pushed his hands aside, taking the tie in her hands and finishing the job. “You two are hopeless, really,” she said while she worked. “What would you do without me?” she asked, flashing Trunks a smile as she finished with the tie. “There, done,” she said and gave him a pat on the chest.

 

“Now,” Laiserta glanced between her two comrades. “Let's get this show on the road.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

It hadn't taken long for Trunks and Armada to fly to the city of Damas and walk to the car rental location they had picked out before hand. Once they had their vehicle, Armada drove them to the mansion. They didn't have much choice as the car was quite different from the one Trunks had driven on Bmyhad, and the traffic rules were different. When they had arrived and dropped off the car with the valet, they walked side-by-side up the stairs to the front of the home.

 

“Lai can you hear me?” Armada asked lowly as she reached the top of the steps.

 

“ _Loud and clear,”_ Trunks heard Laiserta reply over their radio. _“I can see you two approaching the entrance,”_ she added.

 

“Are you in position?” Armada followed up.

 

“ _Ready to go,”_ Laiserta replied.

 

Trunks spared another glance to Armada, who walked at his right side, and she glanced back just as they reached the front doors to the mansion. A line was forming as the guests checked in with security, so the mercenaries fell into line behind the other guests. Trunks reached into his right jacket pocket and pulled out a small tablet, which he then handed to Armada. When it was their turn, Armada handed the tablet to the security guard standing to her right. He connected a smaller device to the tablet and it beeped in response. He nodded to the pair and they headed inside.

 

The inside of the mansion was impressive to put it mildly. Trunks made sure to show no surprise on his face, but he couldn't help but glance around at the ornate designs on several large pillars that ran up to the ceiling in the foyer. A man that appeared to be waitstaff and not security was waiting at the back of the foyer in front of a large set of decorative doors. He directed the mercenaries down a side hallway, away from those particular doors.

 

Trunks and Armada followed the other guests down two more hallways until they had finally reached the ballroom. The ballroom was huge; Trunks wondered how all of this fit inside of one home. Everything before him was in rich gold tones, from the tiled floor, up the walls and to the ceiling and the chandeliers providing light. Scanning the room quickly, Trunks realized that Laiserta and Armada weren't wrong about what the event would be like; everyone wore luxurious clothing in an attempt to match the elegance of the location.

 

Armada stepped forward first, and Trunks almost stuttered when he turned his attention back to her and moved to keep up. “Have you seen Luunalt yet?” Armada asked, not bothering to look at him.

 

Trunks knew not to respond because his comrade wasn't talking to him. _“No,”_ Laiserta answered over the radio in his right ear. _“I think he's in there with you guys but I haven't had time to check out everyone's faces.”_

 

The pair moved forward to get out of the way of other guests entering and exiting the ballroom through the entrance behind them. There was a large group of people dancing in the center of the ballroom, and tables around the edges of the room where others sat and had drinks. At least that gave Trunks an out; he could get a drink from one of the bars on either side of the ballroom and stand behind the tables. It would be a good barrier to keep him out of trouble. While he and Armada had practiced the whole week it had taken them to travel to Farleh, he wasn't confident in his dancing abilities.

 

Armada started heading for the south end of the ballroom, where a large staircase on one end of the room led up to a balcony lining the room. Their goal was to get Luunalt up there and toward one balcony in particular, where Laiserta was hiding in the rafters, so it made sense to start looking for him on that side of the room. They hadn't made it very far when someone stopped them.

 

“Vesper Renais,” a middle-aged man spoke as he made his way through the crowd from the mercenaries' right. Trunks stopped and turned to see Rickel Luunalt approach them. _That was easy,_ Trunks thought. “I was pleased to hear that you accepted my invitation,” Luunalt said with a smile, holding out his right hand toward Armada.

 

Armada's eyes narrowed as she smiled back at Luunalt. “I was glad that I was invited,” she said, taking his hand in hers and shaking it. “I've wanted to discuss a business opportunity with you for some time now,” she added, her voice even and smooth.

 

Watching her put on the act, Trunks was shocked. She couldn't hide the hard gaze she held, and he was certain they were about to be busted. Instead, Luunalt made small chat briefly with the mercenary while Trunks watched. He was even more shocked that neither Luunalt, nor any of the security guards who were watching from the edges of the room, could recognize Armada's predatory gaze. Not that he wanted to be caught, but he quickly developed a low opinion of whoever Luunalt had hired for his security staff.

 

“I hope the trip from LOKI wasn't too onerous,” Luunalt said as Trunks decided to tune back into the conversation between his partner and their target.

 

“Not at all,” Armada replied. “The Republic has its merits,” she added with a smirk.

 

“Anyway,” Luunalt began and cleared his throat, “I understand the infamous Vesper Renais did not travel all of this way for a simple party. Walk with me; we can talk about how I can help fulfill your organization's needs,” he said with a nod of his head. Armada stepped toward him and the pair walked together, with Luunalt leading the way.

 

“I think she's going to head your way now,” Trunks said lowly to himself once his comrade and Luunalt were out of earshot.

 

“ _Looks that way,”_ Laiserta replied. _“Hey, there's a bar against the wall behind you,”_ she continued. _“Go over there, and you should have a good view of the inside balcony if she can get him up those steps.”_

 

Trunks turned and saw the bar that his comrade was referring to, and then headed that way. As he walked, he could pick up Armada's half of her conversation with Luunalt. He listened absentmindedly; it wasn't important what she was saying to him, as long as she kept him walking with her toward Laiserta. When Trunks made his way through the crowd to the bar, he ordered a drink. He didn't plan to actually drink, but if he was holding a drink he might look a little more casual and blend in better. That was his plan, anyway.

 

Luunalt led Armada away from the majority of the crowd in the ballroom, and they appeared to be destined for a courtyard just outside the ballroom, underneath the balcony that she needed to lead him to. Armada stopped walking and Luunalt followed suit. They had been discussing what 'Vesper Renai' needed but only in very vague terms. That left her an opening and she needed to seize it if she was going to get him upstairs.

 

“I need to talk very specific numbers,” she said flatly, and Rickel raised his eyebrows in response. “My men have had too many altercations with federal police lately. We need everything to match them, and more, and I was told that you're the man work with,” she explained, and paused for a moment to let her words sink in. “I think we need to go somewhere a little more,” she made a show of glancing around the ballroom before she finished, “private so that we can discuss the details properly.” Another thought struck her so she added, “I've already set aside funds for this particular project.” If nothing else, Armada hoped that dangling money in front of him with the promise of a sale of weapons would get him moving in the right direction.

 

“Straight to the heart of the matter,” Luunalt replied with a smile and a slight laugh. He looked briefly out into the courtyard, and noticed a decent amount of guests standing in the outdoor area. He turned back to Armada and let out a breath. “Let's head upstairs, to my office. We'll have privacy to discuss everything in detail to your satisfaction,” he answered. “It's up the stairs behind you,” he said and nodded his head in that direction.

 

From where he stood across the ballroom, Trunks could see his partner and their target begin walking toward the large staircase along the southern edge of the building. _“They're headed for the stairs,”_ Laiserta called out over the radio.

 

“I see them,” Trunks said, holding his glass up to his mouth to disguise that he was talking to himself. He feigned taking a drink on the off-chance that anyone was watching. Just as he watched his comrade and Luunalt begin to ascend the staircase, someone pulled on his right arm.

 

“Hello,” a woman with dark brown hair and red skin greeted Trunks, her left hand still clinging onto his right arm. Trunks cursed himself for not noticing the woman approach, though admittedly from his position he'd been focused on where Armada was off in the distance to his left and hadn't been watching anything to his right.

 

“Hi,” Trunks replied awkwardly, hoping to find some way out of this. This was really bad timing; once Armada got Luunalt into position and Laiserta subdued him, Trunks needed to leave off of that same balcony where Laiserta waited with both of his comrades. He didn't have time to chit-chat with any of the other guests.

 

“W-would you like to dance?” the woman asked, her eyes lighting up. Trunks wasn't sure if she was just nervous, or if her stutter was the result of drinking. Her skin was the shade of a tomato and she had long, pointed ears that kind of reminded him of Piccolo. Regardless, he needed to quash this now before it turned into a bigger deal.

 

“No, thank you, I'm afraid I'm waiting for someone,” Trunks replied a little more smoothly, hoping that his answer was delivered diplomatically enough to avoid a problem.

 

“That's fine, we c-can dance until they come back,” the woman said, this time pulling on Trunks's right arm, toward the dance floor.

 

“ _You need to start moving this way,”_ Laiserta said flatly to Trunks over the radio. _“Spider-head's almost here with the package.”_

 

“I'm very sorry, but I _can't_ ,” Trunks stressed, speaking to both the mystery woman pulling on his arm and his comrade.

 

“ _Find a way to ditch the Mutellian and get your ass in gear,”_ Laiserta said again. Armada's conversation continued in his ear behind Laiserta's words, and Trunks knew he needed to go. But how was he supposed to leave this woman without causing a scene?

 

The woman leaned forward and stepped up on her toes in an attempt to get closer to Trunks's face. He instinctively backed away from her but he didn't have much room to move. “No one's ever told me no before,” the woman whispered, her visage falling. Had he not been in the middle of an important mission, Trunks might have felt sorry for her and taken her up on her offer. As the situation stood, he had to get away from her as soon as possible. The question was how.

 

“Sarasu!” a deep, almost angry voice shouted, and the woman nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned and Trunks followed her gaze to find a man much older than the woman, but clearly of the same species. He had the same tomato red skin and pointed ears, but he was mostly bald and had a decent amount of wrinkles on his face.

 

“Father,” she said sheepishly, releasing her grip on Trunks so she could turn and face the man properly.

 

Trunks kept his face calm, but wondered what drama he'd been dragged into now. He spared a glance back toward the balcony and didn't see Armada or Luunalt. He'd lost them in the few moments he'd been trying to get away from this strange woman. _Great_ , he thought bitterly.

 

“I told you that you needed to remain with Kuromu for the entirety of the evening, did I not?” Sarasu's father demanded, clearly irritated with his daughter's behavior.

 

At this, Sarasu's face turned indignant. “And I thought that I told you that I will not marry him!” she shouted, though not quite loud enough to draw any more eyes to the situation. The orchestra playing in the background kept her voice from traveling far.

 

She then whipped around, facing Trunks again and throwing herself into him, latching onto both of his arms this time. “I-I've found someone else!” Sarasu announced, and Trunks had to steel his nerves to keep from reacting too severely to her drunken declaration.

 

“What?!” the father exclaimed, shock and anger mixing into a strange cocktail of emotions displayed on his face. His gaze immediately shot to Trunks and hardened.

 

Trunks couldn't remain quiet any longer. “Sir, my apologies, but I don't know this woman,” he said, shaking his head. The father looked ready to burst when his daughter spoke once more.

 

“You don't now, but you will!” Sarasu begged, looking up at Trunks expectantly with tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

 

“ _Spider-head, you're gonna have to stall. Wonder boy's drowning down there,”_ Trunks heard Laiserta say over the radio in what was barely louder than a whisper.

 

Upstairs in the dark hallway leading to Luunalt's office, Armada stopped walking. Rickel gazed at her curiously, his eyebrows raised. Armada made a show of glancing both ways down the hallway, to verify that no one was around. “I don't think we need to go all the way to your office, this should suffice,” she said, indicating they conduct their discussion where they stood. Armada was only twenty meters from the balcony she needed to drag Luunalt to for Laiserta to strike, but she couldn't move too soon if Trunks couldn't meet them in time. Certainly someone had already noticed Luunalt's absence from the festivities below, and would begin the search. They didn't have much time to pull this off without encountering some serious problems.

 

Despite not knowing what he was going to say to get out of this, Trunks opened his mouth to speak. He hesitated long enough that he was interrupted by a trio of men who approached from behind the angry father; three more that looked just like Sarasu and her dad.

 

“Thank goodness you've found her!” one of the men exclaimed; he appeared to be the closest to Sarasu's age, but with these particular aliens Trunks had no way of knowing.

 

“No thanks to you,” the father snapped.

 

The tallest man of the group stepped forward and put his arms on Sarasu's shoulders. “Sister, let this poor man go,” he said softly. Sarasu seemed to respond better to the softer tone of her brother, and she released Trunks. She glanced up at him one last time before turning away sharply; Trunks thought she suddenly seemed embarrassed to be seen with him.

 

The brother steered his sister toward their father, and when he released her shoulders she stumbled slightly before she began arguing with her father. The brother then turned toward Trunks. “My deepest apologies for my sister's brazen actions,” he stated, bowing his head slightly.

 

“It's fine,” Trunks tried to wave him off. “She didn't cause me any trouble,” he explained. The last thing he needed was to get on the bad side of some random criminal at this party—assuming everyone attending was a criminal of some sort. Sarasu and her father began to walk away from Trunks, still arguing while the other two men chased after her.

 

The brother smirked at Trunks, revealing a set of pointed teeth. “She merely didn't have enough time,” he answered with a slight laugh before turning and following the others.

 

Once they were a safe distance away, Trunks let out a deep sigh. He found an empty table nearby and set down his drink, and then proceeded to make his way toward the large staircase in the back of the ballroom. “I'm on my way,” Trunks announced over his radio.

 

Back upstairs, Armada heard Trunks speak as she listened to Luunalt. “So for the assault weapons, body armor, small arms, thirty armored vehicles and a case of Minovsky grenades, we're looking at,” Armada paused as she added up the numbers in her head, “twenty-two million betas?”

 

“Twenty-one-point-eight-nine, but yes,” Luunalt replied, cracking a smile. “You're certainly as sharp as they say, Miss Renais.”

 

“ _Wonder boy's coming up the stairs now, you need to move before the target spots him,”_ Armada heard Laiserta say over the radio. Luunalt was facing down the long end of the hallway, toward the stairs they had ascended a few minutes ago.

 

“It's a bit stuffy in here; let's walk out and get some air,” Armada said in the smooth, practiced voice she had used for most of the night. She didn't wait for a reply from Luunalt and started walking, hoping he would simply follow her. He quickly followed, and she felt a sense of relief. At least he wouldn't be watching Trunks follow them down the hall.

 

“I can have the funds transfer setup as soon as tomorrow,” Armada continued their conversation. “When can you deliver the product?” she asked just as they crossed the threshold from the hallway out onto the balcony.

 

The nearly full-moon lit up the balcony, and Armada could see Luunalt clearly. She kept walking to the back of the balcony, only stopping once she could set a hand on the railing. Luunalt followed her the whole way, stopping next to her at the end of the balcony. “The primary warehouse is in LOKI, not far from Brunhild,” Luunalt answered. “I'll have to ship the Minovsky grenades, but everything else should already be on-site.”

 

Armada saw a slight movement behind Luunalt, but kept her eyes focused on his. She couldn't afford to give away Laiserta. “Good. I'll send a fleet to pick everything up after the transfer has been confirmed,” she said.

 

Luunalt opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. Suddenly his eyes drifted back into his head, and he fell forward only to stop short of falling into Armada. The space behind Luunalt shimmered, and suddenly Laiserta was visible once more. She smirked at Armada before looking down at the back of Luunalt's neck, a small piece of plastic sticking out from the skin where Laiserta had injected him with a sedative.

 

“That was easy,” Laiserta said before hefting up Luunalt over her left shoulder. She turned around and pulled a black rope down from the rafters above, and Armada held her hand to her right ear. She was just about to ask Trunks where he was, when he walked through the doorway to the balcony.

 

“You missed all the fun,” Laiserta said, shrugging the shoulder that carried their target as she wound up her rope and tied a new loop in the end.

 

“Time to go,” Armada barked out and then approached Laiserta, taking Luunalt's unconscious body from her. Trunks closed the distance between them to help her, and Armada shot him an annoyed glance.

 

Laiserta wrapped the newly tied off end of her rope around one of the stone pillars in the balcony railing and pulled it back toward her to tighten it. “You two first,” she said, motioning over the balcony with her head. Armada dragged Rickel closer to the ledge, propping his back up against the railing. She then hopped up on the balcony backwards in a seated position on the ledge. She swung her legs over, grabbed the rope from Laiserta and began her descent.

 

“You next,” Laiserta said to Trunks.

 

“What about you?” Trunks asked, wondering how she planned to get down while carrying their charge.

 

She smiled. “You guys will help with that from the ground. Get going,” she added deftly.

 

Trunks complied and climbed over the balcony railing before he grabbed the rope and started to climb down. He looked down briefly, and was certain it was a far longer drop than two stories. He felt anxiety wash over him, and wished he had listened to the voice in his head that told him _not_ to look down.

 

A quick two minutes later, he and Armada were on the ground below. Laiserta pulled the rope up partially to untie it from around one of the balcony railing pillars. She then looped it around the same pillar once, throwing the open end down below. With the looped end in her right hand, she picked up Luunalt with her left and slung him over her shoulder once more. She sat up on the railing and let the rope fall slack at her feet. “Grab on to the other end,” she said to her comrades down below.

 

Armada grabbed the end of the rope first, and Trunks held on to a section right behind her. Once they had the rope in hand, Laiserta stepped into the looped end of the rope with her right foot. “I sure hope you two have the strength to hold on,” Laiserta said more to herself than to her comrades. She sighed, and pushed herself forward, off of the balcony railing.

 

The rope tightened sharply, jerking Trunks and Armada forward as they struggled to adjust to the sudden weight. Trunks gritted his teeth and tried to get decent footing in the grass; he knew Laiserta was heavy but this was _ridiculous_. He looked up to Laiserta; she held the rope in her right hand while she stood upright on the loop with her right foot.

 

“Slowly,” Armada said through clenched teeth. She started to step forward, and Trunks followed behind her after each step. Laiserta's descent to the ground moved at a snail's pace, but it was better than the alternative. When their comrade was about halfway down, Trunks heard something crack. He and Armada both stopped; their heads shooting up toward the sound.

 

Laiserta looked up as well, just as pieces of the stone balcony started crumbling away. “Aw, shit,” she managed to say just before the pillar broke. She fell the rest of the way down to the ground, at least twenty-five feet, with a blaring crash. Trunks let go of the rope and ran forward, Armada on his heels.

 

Trunks took a knee next to Laiserta, who was on the ground on her back. “Hey, you okay?” he asked worriedly. In the fall, she had dropped Luunalt who was a few feet away from her. Armada approached and checked Luunalt to make sure he was still alive. Luckily Laiserta didn't fall on top of him.

 

Laiserta struggled to sit up, and Trunks gave her a hand. “ _Shit_ ,” she swore, grimacing as she finally sat upright. “That hurt,” she said through a strained voice. She turned away from Trunks and looked back at the building briefly. “Damnit, they heard that; people are coming,” she explained before turning back toward Trunks and moving to get up on her feet.

 

Armada picked up Luunalt, carrying him bridal style. Trunks helped Laiserta rise to her feet; she took a step forward and nearly fell over. Trunks caught her, and moved to her side where she could wrap her left arm around his shoulders and walk with him for support. “No,” Laiserta said as she hobbled along with Trunks, “my rope.”

 

“We'll get you another one,” Trunks replied, trying to get her moving faster. There was a group of trees not far ahead; if they get into the treeline they could lose anyone trying to follow them.

 

“But I really liked that one,” Laiserta whined, her head then falling forward and swaying slightly. Luckily for the mercenaries, they made it into the tree line and out of sight by the time security guards appeared outside the mansion, and back to the ship shortly thereafter.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After boarding the ship and departing Farleh, the mercenaries only needed to make it back across the border to the Federation Alliance to meet up with LOKI federal police officers and transfer Luunalt into their custody. The funds were transferred on-site at the space station, and all parties went their separate ways. Laiserta only had minor injuries, but she explained that she would 'bruise like hell' from the fall. Shortly after they began their return trip to Bmyhad, Laiserta went to her room to rest. Trunks followed suit a few hours later.

 

Two days after that, Laiserta was still spending most of her time sleeping in her room. Trunks expressed his worry to Armada that she was injured more than she had let on, but his comrade told him not to worry. She didn't think Laiserta would try to cover up her injuries, and she advised that Trunks let her rest.

 

Later that night, Trunks woke up groggy and thirsty. He checked the time, and it was the middle of the night on Bmyhad. He wasn't on Bmyhad as they were still traveling through space, but using Bmyhadian time to try and stick to a decent sleep schedule was all he had to go on. Deciding that he was thirsty enough to do something about it, he got up and made his way to the galley.

 

Walking through the lounge, Trunks would have laughed to himself if he wasn't so tired. Armada was up, looking at something on her laptop where she sat at the table. Once inside the galley, he grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and made his way back toward his room.

 

“Hey, I've got something to show you,” Armada said, her eyes drifting up to him and away from her computer's screen.

 

Trunks let out a breath and frowned. “Do you ever sleep?” he asked, somewhat annoyed. He was tired and wanted to go back to bed; he only got up because he was so damn thirsty that he couldn't fall back asleep.

 

Ignoring his question, Armada turned her laptop around slightly so he could get a better look. Trunks took a few steps over to get closer to the table and leaned over somewhat so he could see the details of what she was showing him. There was a picture of a man with red hair, in a blue suit, and a bunch of text around it. Trunks blinked hard a few times, trying to clear up his vision to get a better look. He finally resigned and sat down next to Armada, hopefully to get a better view.

 

She turned the laptop back around to face them. “I got this file from a hacker who'd broken into a datacenter belonging to the Republican military,” she explained.

 

“Who is it?” Trunks asked, still studying the photo. The man looked young, maybe not much older than Trunks, and he had bright red hair that was cut much the same as Trunks's was when he kept it short. The photo appeared to be taken from a distance and without the subject's knowledge, as the man looked to be mid-conversation with someone nearby.

 

“Ryan Rieve,” Armada replied, looking at Trunks pointedly.

 

Trunks turned to his comrade sitting to his right, his eyes wide. “Rieve? The same Rieve?” he asked, wanting to verify that he was following her.

 

Armada nodded. “This guy is the leader,” she said flatly. She turned to the document, “Apparently he took control of the organization fifteen years ago, the same time that the last known members of the Rieve family were last seen in public. Or so the analyst who wrote this report thinks,” Armada amended. “There's always a chance it's wrong.”

 

Trunks thought for a moment. “So this guy's not part of the Rieve family?” he asked.

 

“No,” Armada replied. “It must have been a hostile takeover,” she added, her gaze turning inward as she thought. “I wonder how he managed that,” she said mostly to herself.

 

A memory floated up to the front of Trunks's mind. _'And, as far as I know, nobody's stronger than the man himself, though I've never seen him fight with my own eyes.'_ “Is he an energy fighter?” Trunks asked, trying to gauge just what Armada knew.

 

“I don't know, but most likely he is,” Armada answered, finally looking back at Trunks once again. “It could explain how he managed to take over the organization,” she added. She turned to the laptop again, looking at the file. “What I really want to know is, why is the military gathering information on him? This should be the jurisdiction of the national police, not the military,” she said, her eyebrows coming together as she thought.

 

“Who cares about that; now we know who their leader is,” Trunks cut in. “So now we just need to find this guy, right?”

 

Armada looked to Trunks. “It won't be that easy. He likely stays at their headquarters,” she answered.

 

“So where's the headquarters?” Trunks asked.

 

“No one knows,” Armada replied. “But I think it's somewhere in the southeastern Republic. Gives them close proximity to both the Federation and LOKI, while maintaining some discretion as the area isn't as densely populated or patrolled.”

 

“So we need to locate their headquarters,” Trunks surmised from what his partner had just stated.

 

“Yes, but we're not ready to launch an assault on it,” Armada quickly countered. “The ship needs some serious upgrades before we're going to take on that kind of firefight.”

  
Trunks looked back at the image on the monitor, studying the photo of Ryan Rieve. They had a target, now they just needed to find him.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading! I would love feedback, good or bad.

 

-Silvia


	19. Mission 11:  Roughing It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew accepts a job that takes them to a destroyed world in the Federation Alliance, where there are more problems than just the deadly local wildlife.

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

  


-+-

  


A young woman with short orange hair stood tall in front of the men before her. They were in full-dress, carrying their weapons slung over their backs. They hoped to intimidate her, but they were about to be disappointed. She took a slow, deep breath before speaking.

 

“I want a year's worth of supplies for the village. Food, water, clothing, temporary shelter—all of it.” She stood as tall she could, staring the commanding officer in the eyes. She wouldn't back down.

 

“First, your demands are ridiculous,” the officer began. “Second, there's nothing stopping me from killing you and retrieving the item myself. You might want to make yourself useful to avoid such a fate.”

 

The woman wanted to laugh. She settled for a slight smirk. “Fine, kill me. I'm the only who knows where it is. You could spend years looking and never find it, especially with how overgrown the jungle is. I know your instruments don't work properly here because of the leftover radiation, otherwise you'd have scanned the planet and found it by now.” She paused a moment for dramatic effect. “So I don't need to make myself useful. You're the one who needs me. Or,” her smirk grew, “you can return home with nothing, like all the others.”

 

The officer sighed as he thought for a moment, his brown eyes narrowing at the young woman. “You will not die today. But I am not willing to negotiate.”

 

“Neither am I,” the woman replied sharply. “I gave you my price, if you don't want it, then leave.”

 

“We'll be back,” the man said sullenly, “when I have authorization to bring you your supplies.”

 

“I look forward to it,” the woman said, her smirk shifting into a smile as the military men turned and left her home.

  


-+-

  


Illumination

 

Mission 11: Roughing It

  


-+-

  


A week after leaving Farleh, Trunks was finally back on Bmyhad. It was night when they arrived, so he only took a quick walk before returning to the ship to go to bed. The following morning, he and Laiserta went out to get supplies and food. She was surprisingly fun to shop with, and had a wealth of knowledge on different ingredients. Then again, she was a self-proclaimed chef in her spare time, so he supposed it was to be expected.

 

Once they returned to the ship and put all of their groceries away, Armada called them all to meet in the bridge. Sitting in the pilot's seat, Armada brought up a map on the main display.

 

“A journalist from Ceva wants the flight recorder from what they suspect is a Tyrian fighter that crashed on Euphoria during the Dreyfus War,” she started bluntly.

 

“Well that's kind of a big deal, if it's really there,” Laiserta said, leaning against the back wall of the bridge next to the door to the lounge. “What's this guy gonna pay for it?” she asked.

 

“Four hundred and sixteen thousand betas,” Armada replied.

 

Laiserta whistled. “A nice chunk of change for an ancient flight recorder,” she added.

 

“Through his own research the journalist has narrowed down the location where he thinks the wreckage lies. It's an area about forty square kilometers on the surface of Euphoria near the planet's equator,” Armada explained. She pressed another button at the ship's console and the monitor changed to a three-dimensional map of Euphoria with a small area highlighted on the surface.

 

“Wait, they can't find it?” Trunks asked, suddenly confused. His comrades immediately looked to him. “Can't they just scan the planet for what they're looking for?” he asked. He knew the Bmyhadians had those kinds of capabilities from when he had worked with them on projects involving the Earth. How could this be so different?

 

“No,” Armada answered flatly. “Nothing can scan accurately through the radiation,” she explained.

 

“Radiation?” Trunks repeated, his eyebrows rising up on his face.

 

“You don't know?” Laiserta cut in, eyeing Trunks with a wary visage. His clueless expression answered her question. _“Den muole,”_ she muttered under her breath in Taydran. “The Dreyfus War occurred almost five hundred years ago between Euphoria and Stapel, neighboring planets in the Fualto star system. It ended when Stapel fired nuclear bombs at Euphoria, who responded with their own nuclear arsenal. In the end, both planets obliterated one another, killing everyone on both worlds,” Laiserta explained. “Well, everyone was _thought_ to be dead, until about eighty years ago when researchers found that there were some people still alive down there,” she added.

 

Trunks felt both shocked and ill. He couldn't imagine how many people had died. He thought about the Earth, and all of the people he had failed to protect from being murdered by the androids. At least the survivors weren't living in an irradiated, poisoned environment. But it did nothing to quell his own guilt at how many people died before he was able to finally stop Seventeen and Eighteen.

 

“The radiation isn't strong enough to cause us any damage if we visit Euphoria for a few days,” Armada spoke up. “We'll be fine to go planet-side and search the area for the shipwreck,” she explained. “We'll need your help most of all Laiserta,” she said and looked to her Taydran comrade, “because the area the journalist has identified is in a dense jungle.”

 

“We're still gonna have to search on foot quite a bit,” Laiserta replied. “I can't see through an entire area that big.”

 

“That's fine,” Armada stated and stood from her seat. “I need to do some maintenance on the engines before we leave, but as soon as that's done we're heading out.” With that, Armada walked out of the bridge and headed for the cargo bay.

  


-+-

  


Two days into a five day trip to Euphoria, Trunks was sitting back in his bed in his room, researching information about Stapel and Euphoria on a tablet he'd picked up in Ute. Laiserta's explanation of the Dreyfus War was sadly accurate. He'd spent his time since they left Bmyhad to learn everything he could about the war and the results of that war on both the environment and people of Euphoria. Extensive research was being done on the population in an attempt to figure out both how they survived and why they seemed to have adapted to the irradiated environment.

 

The fate of the people of both planets was horrific. Even now, most people died before the age of thirty from various types of cancer and genetic defects resulting from the radiation. Those that did survive that long, would maybe make it to fifty before passing away. Society had been completely destroyed, and the people of both planets had to revert to an almost prehistoric civilization. Despite the research being conducted, there was no clear history for either planet as to what happened when the war was over. And with so many years passing in between the end of the war and when first contact was made with the people of Stapel once again, the task of reconstructing those missing years of history seemed insurmountable.

 

Trunks's eyes were starting to bother him from staring at the screen of his tablet too long, so he turned it off and set it down beside himself in his bed. He rubbed at his eyes, not sure if his headache was from straining his eyes or the distress he felt while learning about the Dreyfus War. Perhaps it was both. He let out a sigh before lying down completely and staring up at the metal ceiling of his room. He'd thought that he had failed the Earth spectacularly over the years. But reading about Euphoria made him feel that he should be more thankful for the planet's environmental survival. While he'd barely stopped the androids from killing all of humanity, at least the Earth itself had not been destroyed. At least the people wouldn't suffer from a nuclear winter.

 

It would take a lot of work over many, many years to get society on Earth back to where it was just thirty years ago. Despite that, it was a task the people were willing to take on. Thankfully the Bmyhadians came along, as they were able to speed up the process. But that bothered Trunks in a way that made him feel uneasy to his core. Why would the Bmyhadians help the people of Earth, and yet ignore two devastated planets in their own country? Some of what Trunks read about the two destroyed worlds was about the politics on how to deal with Euphoria and Stapel, and it wasn't good. The highest estimates of people left on either world were under five million, each. Why wouldn't Bmyhad, or other nations like Taydr and Virda, step in to help those people? Instead, the people of Euphoria and Stapel were left to rot and die.

 

It had certainly colored Trunks's opinion of Bmyhad... and people that he had considered friends. Were people like Devan and Murtole only helping the Earth because it would further their careers? They would save an unknown race of people from extinction, and win accolades and grant money within the scientific community. From what he read, some politicians argued that clearly the intergalactic community did not care about Stapel and Euphoria. Based on results, Trunks was starting to agree with that sentiment.

 

Trunks closed his eyes and tried to relax. After twenty minutes of unsuccessfully trying to wind down, he figured he would get up and try to eat something. Several minutes later, he walked into the lounge from the galley with a few pieces of fruit and bottle of water. Laiserta was sitting at the table in the lounge, leaned back in her seat with her legs crossed and propped up on the table. Trunks didn't have the wherewithal to argue with her at that moment, and simply sat down next to her, saying nothing.

 

“What's eating you?” Laiserta asked, her eyes still staring across the room at the monitor on the other wall. She was watching something on the network, with the volume set low.

 

“Why do you...?” Trunks started to ask, but stopped himself. He shook his head; “Nevermind,” he said, turning his attention back to his food.

 

“Your blood pressure's up but your heart rate is down,” Laiserta said flatly. She finally turned to her left to look him in the eyes. “Signs of someone who is distressed about something,” she added.

 

Trunks looked at her for a moment before his eyes fell away from hers. “I was reading about the Dreyfus War,” he began.

 

“Ah,” Laiserta cut in. “A bleeding heart like you can't deal with something like that,” she added, her tone indicating that it was a statement of fact. Trunks looked back up at her, his face plainly showing his confusion at her words. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could start.

 

“Come on wonder boy, you're easy to peg. Naive to a fault, sure; but you've got a good heart,” Laiserta explained with a small smile on her face. She reached over and took one of the 'apples' he had sitting on the table, immediately taking a bite. “You don't have to pretend to be some badass to me; I'm not that judgmental.”

 

Part of it was that he was tired, and part of it was that Laiserta seemed to be genuine at the moment, so Trunks let down his guard. “Why isn't anyone trying to help the people of Euphoria and Stapel?” He paused a moment and continued. “I mean _really_ help them, not sending tiny amounts of supplies that won't have a real effect. Why not just evacuate them from the planet? There aren't that many people left on either world, right?”

 

Laiserta smiled sympathetically. “Your heart is really too big, you know that?” she said sadly. “There are what, maybe ten million people between both worlds? Where would they go?” Laiserta asked. “They've been unplugged from interstellar society for hundreds of years, and they have no skills to help them survive on any modern planet. And who would take them in? Do you have any idea how much time and money would need to be invested in protecting and caring for all of those people, since they won't be able to do it for themselves? Not to mention their medical needs since all of them are sick from radiation poisoning.” She paused a moment and let out a dark laugh under her breath. “The universe is a cruel place. There's nothing wrong with wanting to protect people, Trunks, but you've got to know that you can't save everyone.”

 

Trunks didn't reply to Laiserta right away, and instead let her words sink in. She was right; he couldn't save everyone. That much could be proven by how many people he had failed on his own planet. Still, while not everyone could be saved, did that mean people could turn their backs and not even try? Not to his mind, but he understood that the issue was complicated. Laiserta wasn't wrong when she said that the people of both planets would need to be cared for, probably for the remainder of their lives. But did that mean that the rest of the universe could just turn a blind eye to a people's suffering?

 

Trunks wasn't paying attention, and Laiserta had already stood up from the table. “Chin up; we won't be on Euphoria very long,” she said while placing a hand on Trunks's left shoulder. She shot him a small smile before turning and heading out of the lounge, leaving her comrade to his thoughts.

  


-+-

  


The rear cargo door to the ship lowered slowly, settling into the ground and providing the ramp the mercenaries required to disembark. Laiserta quickly headed down first, and Trunks followed behind. The warm, humid air was a departure from anywhere else Trunks had been in the last several months. Once he had his feet on the ground, Trunks could get a better look around. The ship had landed in a small clearing in a dense jungle. There was an odd, low buzzing of noises that Trunks chalked up to wildlife in the jungle.

 

Armada finally made her way down the metal ramp to join her comrades. Once she was clear of the door, she pressed a button on a small silver remote in her right hand, and the cargo door rose and retracted back into the ship. “Let's get going,” she said flatly, looking pointedly at Laiserta.

 

“The village is straight ahead, let's see if you two can keep up,” Laiserta replied with a smirk before walking in the direction of their destination. Trunks quickly fell into step behind Laiserta, Armada a few paces behind him. One thing Trunks had not learned in his research on Euphoria was that the world had a 'natural Minovsky field,' to quote his blonde comrade. Apparently a few rare planets in the universe produced Minovsky particles, not unlike the Earth's own magnetic field. So for this mission, he and Armada would look to Laiserta to lead them. He felt uneasy about being so vulnerable on a world like Euphoria, but reminded himself that this should be a quick job. Or so he hoped.

  


-+-

  


Just under an hour later, the mercenaries found the 'village' that their Cevan journalist had directed them to. Trunks thought the word village was a bit of an overstatement, as what he now found himself walking through was a few rows of old destroyed houses and patchwork tents. The few people they saw would turn away from their gazes or go inside of a building or hut to hide.

 

Laiserta stopped walking when they reached what appeared to be the center of town, with a haphazard well dug into the ground. “Well, the locals don't seem very friendly, do they?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

 

“They have no reason to trust us,” Armada replied. “Some of these people may never have seen someone from off-world before,” she added.

 

Trunks glanced around, his visage distressed. He noticed a small boy with dirty brown hair looking at them from behind a damaged door. When his eyes met Trunks's, the boy gasped and ducked out of sight. Trunks grimaced. “I don't think we need to scare everyone like this,” he said before turning to look back at his comrades.

 

“Sorry, almost everyone here has never seen an outsider before.”

 

The three mercenaries turned toward the sound of a light, feminine voice. A young woman with short orange hair and light blue eyes stood before them. Trunks wasn't sure what to say, so when he opened his mouth to speak he hesitated long enough for someone else to cut in.

 

“You speak Ferian? That's a surprise,” Laiserta said and shifted her weight on her feet.

 

“Not everyone here does, but I do,” the young woman replied. The more Trunks studied her, the more he thought she seemed younger than she carried herself. Perhaps she was only a teenager; he couldn't be sure. Her clothes didn't offer any help as to her age, because they were dark and worn, maybe even older than she was.

 

“We're looking for the wreckage of an old Tyrian fighter, specifically we need the flight recorder” Armada cut in. “Information given to us indicated that the people who live in this village might know where it is.”

 

The young woman smiled. “I do know where the wreckage is, and I'll take you there... for a price,” she replied. Laiserta shifted awkwardly and caught Trunks's attention for a moment, but neither said anything.

 

“You want supplies, right?” Armada guessed. “Money isn't going to get you very far,” she explained. Trunks quickly realized that Armada was right; it wasn't as if Euphoria had a bank they could transfer betas to, at any rate. “We have medical supplies, enough to treat serious wounds and some diseases. How about ten crates?” Armada offered.

 

The orange-haired woman smiled brightly, her lopsided bangs blowing in the slight breeze. “I have to run it by the village elders, but I think they'll accept. Stay here, I'll be right back,” she added before turning toward the singular two-story building in the small settlement.

 

“Good call on the medical supplies, that's definitely something they won't have,” Trunks said, turning to Armada.

 

“We can replace those ten crates for under twenty-five thousand betas total,” she answered, explaining the quick cost-analysis she'd done in her head.

 

Laiserta crossed her arms over her chest and watched the young woman closely as she disappeared into the dilapidated house. “There's something wrong with her,” Laiserta said, her tone distrustful as she scowled.

 

Trunks looked at Laiserta, his eyebrows raised. “What's up?” he asked.

 

“She wasn't nervous at all,” Laiserta replied, still staring at the house – or presumably the woman inside. “No increase in heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature, _nothing_.”

 

“People who spend many years in high-stress environments can adapt to the point that they don't respond to stressful situations in the same way as others,” Armada cut in. “I wouldn't read too much into it if I were you, Lai.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Laiserta scoffed, briefly glancing at Armada before turning back toward the house.

 

“What's going on now?” Trunks asked, assuming that Laiserta was following the young woman's movements.

 

“She's talking to a group of old geezers, like she said,” Laiserta replied. “Looks like they're about to finish up,” she added.

 

A few moments later, the woman appeared from the house and met up with the mercenary group once more. “I've received permission from the elders to take you to the wreckage,” she began. “It's not far from here, but it will take several hours to get there because of the thick jungle.” She paused a moment and smiled broadly with appeared to Trunks to be a genuine smile. “I'm Marice, it's nice to meet you.”

 

“I'm Armada, this is Toran and Lai,” Armada immediately replied, pointing to her comrades as she introduced them. Trunks nodded to Marice while Laiserta merely grunted, still carrying a deep scowl on her face.

 

Marice only continued to smile in response. “Okay, everyone follow me.”

  


-+-

  


Two hours later, the mercenaries led by Marice slogged through the thick Euphorian jungle. In his time away from home, Trunks hadn't seen much in the way of alien vegetation and wildlife. So the trek on Euphoria was wild to him; to see so many strange and fascinating plants and animals, it was like he was dreaming. Little groups of what looked like butterflies but with sharp diamond shaped wings would frequently fly up from under his feet, and they left a trail of glowing dust in the air as they went. Hanging vines that looked like parts of a tree would suddenly curl up and move away when the mercenaries got too close. There was too much for Trunks to look at; it was hard to follow Marice's exact path through the jungle with everything around him causing a distraction.

 

The group followed in a line with Marice in the front. Several meters behind her was Laiserta, who wanted to stay the closest to their Euphorian guide. Trunks was falling behind at nearly ten meters behind Laiserta, with Armada trailing behind him by an even greater distance. Marice used a large stick to brush things aside as she walked, taking care not to really damage anything. She didn't explain why, but Trunks guessed she was trying not to disturb anything unnecessarily. Who knew what kinds of things could be provoked in this wild landscape?

 

Just then, another group of 'butterflies' flew out of a nearby bush in front of Trunks. He tried to shorten his next step to stay back from them, and when his left foot hit the ground it slid off of something. He stumbled slightly, his weight falling forward onto his left foot. He turned in time with his momentum, to keep from falling over completely. Suddenly something moved in the weeds around his feet. Before Trunks realized what was happening, something with a very strong grip had wrapped around his right leg and started climbing.

 

Trunks tried to step back but couldn't move. A large, strong snake had wound itself around his right leg from his ankle to his knee. The head of the bright purple and magenta snake stood up from the body in front of Trunks, its face aligned with his. Trunks's eyes widened and the snake hissed, revealing a large set of black-tipped fangs inside of its mouth.

 

Armada looked up to see something holding onto Trunks in the distance ahead of her. She quickly realized something was wrong. “Toran!” she shouted before sprinting toward him as quickly as she could, despite the thick foliage.

 

Laiserta and Marice's heads both snapped around when Armada shouted. With his back toward her, Laiserta could see something just over Trunks's shoulder and it was disturbingly close to his face. “Shit!” Laiserta shouted, immediately reaching for the pistol in the holster at her right hip.

 

Marice's eyes widened in shock. “No!” she shouted in a panicked voice. She dashed forward toward Laiserta while reaching for something from behind her back. Marice threw the item as hard as she could at Laiserta's right hand, then took a dive toward the jungle floor.

 

Laiserta had lined up a shot and was ready to fire when a piece of metal slammed into her right arm, causing her to lose her shot as she dropped the pistol she held.

 

Trunks was frozen in fear; the snake's mouth faded from a deep fuchsia to a pale blue at the end of its nose. It hissed a second time, and this time kept its mouth open. Then the sides of the snake's mouth pressed out from the center, widening the creature's mouth further. It stared into his eyes with bright orange eyes of its own, and Trunks wasn't sure he could move in time if it tried to strike him in the face.

 

Marice had rolled when she took a dive for the forest floor, scrambling to grab something with her right hand. Laiserta turned toward the young woman, drawing her other pistol and leveling it at the Euphorian. Marice didn't bother to look at Laiserta; she picked up a small round object and lobbed it through the air toward Trunks.

 

Just as the snake-like monster seemed ready to strike, a small brown sphere the size of a ping-pong ball landed softly against the snake's head, just between the eyes. The rough sphere was full of holes, and when it hit the snake a dust-cloud of pollen poured forth from the holes. The fuchsia monster's eyes twitched, and it immediately shut its mouth. Before Trunks could breathe, the snake rapidly unwound itself from his leg, lowered itself back down to the ground and disappeared into the jungle floor with a speed that was downright frightening.

 

“Are you okay?!” Armada shouted, closing the last bit of distance between them.

 

The creature had squeezed his leg pretty hard, and Trunks bent over slightly to rub at the sensitive areas around his knee. “Yeah, I think so,” he said, letting out a harried breath.

 

_“What the hell was that?!”_

 

The two mercenaries turned to see their comrade Laiserta holding up Marice by the collar of her white shirt, the Euphorian's feet dangling above the ground. The pair dashed forward, trying to figure out just why their comrade was now assaulting their guide.

 

Marice held onto Laiserta's right forearm, since the Taydran's right hand was holding her up by the collar of her clothing. “You can't shoot a _narateurl_ , they have armor plating on their skull!” Marice shouted back at Laiserta. “You would have only made it angry!”

 

“Lai, put her down,” Trunks called out as he and Armada approached. Trunks tripped over some roots sticking out of the ground, and took several steps to catch his balance and stand upright again. “If she threw that at that... _thing_ , then it worked,” he explained, hoping to calm down his comrade.

 

Laiserta narrowed her eyes at Marice, cutting through her with an icy glare before finally releasing the young woman. Marice dropped to the ground, landing in a sitting position on the jungle floor. “ _Narateurl_ are highly allergic to _bara_ seeds,” Marice explained. “You just need to hit them in the head with the seed to knock the pollen out of it, and it'll drive the _narateurl_ away. If you shot it, it would have killed him!”

 

Laiserta holstered the pistol she'd been holding in her left hand. “Clearly you've never seen me shoot,” she said lowly, still fixing the young woman with a steely glare.

 

Trunks reached down and held a hand out to Marice. “Thank you,” he said with a genuine smile. Marice nodded to him and took his hand; he helped her rise to her feet.

 

“Why didn't you tell us we needed to watch out for those things?” Armada demanded tersely.

 

Marice let out a breath and shook her head. “They're only active at night and they sleep in the trees during the day. If that one was wandering around, it was probably sick,” Marice answered.

 

“Like everything else on this shithole,” Laiserta muttered under her breath.

 

Armada reached down and picked up something from the ground. Trunks's eyes widened a bit as he recognized the black metal weapon in her hand as a sai. Gohan had shown him various weapons at one point, from a book, as part of their training. He had never used sai himself, but Trunks knew one when he saw it.

 

“This yours?” Armada asked, holding out the weapon toward Marice.

 

“It is, thank you,” Marice answered. She took the sai from Armada's hand and slid it into place behind her back on the over-sized belt she wore, next to it's twin. Trunks had noticed that she carried something on her back when they left the village but didn't look closely as they were quickly caught up in the jungle. Now he could see clearly that she carried a pair of sai.

 

“Yeah, hit me with that thing again and I'll break your hand,” Laiserta said bitterly, her arms crossed over her chest.

 

Before anyone had a chance to reply to Laiserta, Armada spoke up. “Let's get going,” she said flatly. Marice nodded to the blonde mercenary before turning away and resuming their path through the jungle.

 

Armada immediately fell into step behind Marice, who reached down and picked up another stick. Trunks walked after them, stopping next to Laiserta. “Did she really hurt your ego that bad?” Trunks chastised Laiserta with a smirk.

 

“Nope,” Laiserta said, her voice losing its vitriol from moments ago. “But she did hit me harder than I thought anyone on this planet would be capable of.” Laiserta turned away from Trunks and followed the rest of the group. Trunks was slightly surprised at her statement, but wasted no time mulling it over. He joined the others in resuming their journey.

  


-+-

  


Several hours after Trunks's close encounter with Euphorian wildlife, the mercenaries were close to their destination. Marice pushed through some thick foliage and the mercenaries followed. Once Trunks pushed through to the other side, he stopped with the others. “Whoa,” he said without thinking. They stood on the top of a slight hill, and at the bottom of the hill was clearly a metal structure protruding from the ground.

 

“This is it,” Marice said, turning to the mercenaries as she motioned toward the wreckage.

 

“Lai,” Armada immediately called for her comrade, glancing at the Taydran.

 

“Already on it,” Laiserta replied as she stared down at the wreckage, her irises moving in her eyes unnaturally. “It's mostly below the ground, which isn't a huge surprise,” she began. “I don't see any obvious logos, but it's pretty damaged on the outside, there may not be any left. Overall,” she turned her attention back to her comrades, “this looks like it's what we're here for.”

 

Armada nodded and started descending the hill, moving in between the thick overgrowth with some difficulty. The rest of the group followed, Marice bringing up the rear. When they reached the wreckage at the bottom of the hill, they stood before a large open door.

 

“Must have been the cargo bay,” Trunks surmised as they looked down into the ship from the huge open door, into the darkness below.

 

“I think it's upside-down,” Laiserta added as she scanned the shipwreck beneath their feet. “Hard to tell because it's so busted up,” she added.

 

“Lai,” Armada said again, this time not as sternly as before.

 

“Yeah yeah I got it,” Laiserta said, walking away from the edge of the opening and over toward a large tree growing up from the ground at the right side of the door. She pulled a black rope from her trench-coat and began unwinding it.

 

“How long do you think you need in there?” Marice asked, looking to Trunks and then Armada.

 

“Shouldn't be more than a few hours,” Armada quickly replied.

 

Marice nodded. “Okay. I'll just wait here then.”

 

“Thanks again for your help,” Trunks said to Marice, smiling at her.

 

Marice smiled back. “You're welcome,” she said jovially.

 

“All right, I'm ready,” Laiserta called to the others. She had tied her rope around a large branch of a tree right next to the wreckage, which they could use to lower themselves down into the ship.

 

Armada walked over and took the rope from Laiserta's hand, and began climbing down the rope into the darkness below. Trunks followed next, and Laiserta went last. Despite not being able to see the distance to judge it, Trunks guessed they had traveled at least twenty meters down before they hit the 'floor' of the ship. Just as Laiserta's feet met the ground and she released the rope, Armada pulled a few items from her belt the size of large pills. She snapped hers, causing it to light up with a small but bright white light. She pinned it to the black fabric of her armor on her chest before handing the other two to her comrades.

 

Marice watched as the mercenaries turned on lights down below. As their lights came on, she could finally confirm that the three of them were down there and no one was still on the rope. She walked away from the edge of the door and over behind the tree where the rope was tied. She brushed away some moss on the side of the ship, revealing a small panel. Marice opened the panel and reached inside, placing her hand on a small lever. She pulled the lever out and twisted.

 

A sudden noise above them drew the mercenaries' attention, and their heads all snapped up toward the opening they used to enter the ship. Before any of them could react, a large metal door extended out from the 'top' of the ship above ground, and slammed down on the opening.

 

“Son of a bitch!” Laiserta yelled and ran over to the rope that was still dangling into the cargo bay.

 

“What just happened?” Trunks asked, completely bewildered. Armada glanced to him, apparently just as confused as he was.

 

Laiserta grabbed onto her rope and pulled it as hard as she could while still shouting. “The next time I see you, you're dead!” She struggled while pulling the rope, even leaning back with the full weight of her body while yanking on her rope. Finally she growled and stood up, releasing the rope. “Goddamnit!” she shouted before punching the metal wall of the ship, leaving an indentation the size of her fist.

 

“Lai what's going?” Armada asked, her face barely visible from the minor ambient light generated from the light packs the three mercenaries were wearing.

 

“What do you think?” Laiserta snapped, turning toward her comrade. “That Euphorian brat just trapped us down here.” Trunks's eyes widened in surprise. Marice had closed the door on them? Why?

 

“Before anyone tries to say anything, I looked up to see her standing next to what appears to be the emergency release for the door control. She pulled it, on purpose,” Laiserta explained. Trunks couldn't see her face but tell from the tone of her voice that she was angry.

 

“Nothing we can do about it now,” Armada replied. “Let's get the flight recorder and find another way out.”

 

Laiserta huffed and fell silent for a few moments. “Okay, looks like there's another area of the ship that's above ground on the other side of this hill,” she said, her voice now calmer than before.

 

No one moved for a moment, and Trunks spoke up. “Uh, Lai, I think you're going to have to lead the way. Even with these lights it's still really dark in here,” he explained.

 

He heard Laiserta sigh, and the light on her jacket moved slightly as she slumped her shoulders. “Fine, let's go,” she said before walking past her comrades and deeper into the ship.

 

A few minutes into their trek, Laiserta sighed again. “I knew something was off with that girl,” she muttered to herself.

 

“What do you mean?” Trunks asked. He remembered that Laiserta said that Marice didn't appear distressed like everyone else when they first met, but he wasn't sure how that would have helped them avoid their current predicament.

 

“I can usually tell when people are lying,” Laiserta explained before climbing over another obstacle in her path. She stopped and reached back, holding out a hand to help Trunks. He took her hand and she pulled him up onto the crate she was standing on, before she resumed her walk through the next doorway. “Their heart rate increases, they sweat more, their pupils dilate, crap like that,” Laiserta explained. “With her, she was way too cool. There was never a time she was nervous, even when that... _thing_ was about to bite your face off.” Laiserta paused her conversation a moment as she looked ahead in the ship, planning their next move across the room. “I could never tell that she was lying,” Laiserta explained while Trunks helped Armada up onto the crate before crossing into the next room.

 

“So?” Trunks asked as he caught up with Laiserta.

 

“'So?'” Laiserta repeated him, incredulous. She turned to face Trunks. _“So,_ I couldn't stop her from tossing us down here! Not to mention my spare rope is tied up in this crappy old shipwreck now,” Laiserta added bitterly, stomping her foot on the metal floor and leaving a serious dent.

 

Trunks laughed slightly. “I know this might be new to you, but we've gotten out of way worse situations,” he said, thinking back on some of the scrapes he and Armada had been through the past several months.

 

“Doesn't mean I have to like being outsmarted by a pipsqueak like her,” Laiserta replied darkly.

 

“Well if you're done complaining, can we keep moving?” Armada finally spoke. She had asked a question, but her tone indicated that it was more of an order than anything else.

 

“Yeah yeah,” Laiserta said, spinning back around before leading the group onward through the ship.

 

Twenty minutes later, the mercenaries finally made it to the bridge of the ship. Laiserta spotted the flight recorder and directed Armada to its location. Armada knelt down at the location, using a few tools she'd brought with her to unscrew the metal panel hiding the flight recorder. Finally locating the bright orange box, Armada pulled it loose from where it had sat for nearly five hundred years. She blew some dust off of the box, and eyed it warily.

 

Trunks sensed that something wasn't quite right. Before he could say anything, Laiserta stepped over and looked down at the box. “Aw, shit,” she said, sounding more defeated than angry.

 

Armada opened the bright orange box to reveal that it was empty inside. She didn't appear to be surprised from what Trunks could see. “I knew it wasn't in here when I lifted it; it was too light,” Armada explained while still looking down at the empty box.

 

“Great. She knew it was gone when she led us down here,” Laiserta spat, shifting on her feet and placing a hand on her hip. “Seriously, I'm going to kill that kid when we get back. I don't even care if you guys call me a baby killer for the rest of my life, she has it coming,” she explained.

 

Dismissing the latter half of his comrade's statement, Trunks focused on the more important part. “If Marice knew that, then she must know where the flight recorder is now, right?” Trunks asked. “So we go back to the village and get it.”

 

“Yeah,” Laiserta scoffed, “and then what? If she won't tell us where it is, we beat it out of her?”

 

Trunks felt uneasy at Laiserta's suggestion. Sure, Marice had lied to them, but she looked like she was just a kid. The thought of anyone hitting her bothered him.

 

“If necessary,” Armada said and stood up after setting the empty orange box down. “But I don't think that will work,” she added, sounding as if she was thinking about their next move. Trunks felt relieved at her words; it didn't sound like Armada favored violence in this scenario.

 

“Anyway, we've got to get out of here first, right?” Trunks broke in.

 

Laiserta nodded, the light on her jacket bouncing slightly with the movement. “Everyone follow me,” she said in a nearly exasperated tone before turning away from her comrades.

 

A few minutes after they started the back half of their tour through and upside-down Tyrian frigate, Trunks couldn't help but ask the question that had been plaguing him for a while now. “Why is this shipwreck so valuable, anyway?” Trunks asked. In all his reading on the Dreyfus War, he never came across any mention of Tyron.

 

He heard Armada's voice respond from behind him. “Because if Tyron was involved in the war, and it can be proven, it'll be a huge scandal. Our journalist wants it because unearthing something this huge will make his career,” she explained.

 

“Yeah, and Tyron would prefer that it stay buried,” Laiserta added from ahead of him. Trunks nodded to himself and kept moving, hoping they'd be out of the ship soon.

  


-+-

  


The trip back to the village for Marice was much quicker than the trip out to the shipwreck. She had led the mercenaries out in a slight semi-circle, through an area she didn't normally trek through. So the jungle was thick and it took them some time to get there. On her return to the village, however, she took a path that she knew well; part of that path included following a stream that ventured underground. As a result, she made it back in less than one-third the time it had taken her on the way out to the crashed Tyrian ship.

 

When Marice got back to her house, she dashed upstairs to her room. She dug around underneath the lumpy mattress of her bed until she found what she was looking for. Pulling her hand out, she held a shiny black object that clearly didn't come from Euphoria. She flipped it open and pressed the button on the side as she was shown several days ago.

 

“Captain Kozuki,” she said into the radio, “ I have something you might be interested in.”

  


-+-

  


It took the mercenaries another two hours to make it to the exit that Laiserta found. Part of the issue was, with the ship being upside-down relative to their position, the way out was far above their heads. With no tools on hand to climb, they had to improvise. After finding some old crates and ties, they managed to stack a group and tie them together. The pile of crates was far from stable, so Armada stayed down on the ground and pulled against one of the ties to help hold them in place.

 

Laiserta had climbed to the top of the stack, and turned to pull Trunks up behind her. “We're still a bit short,” Laiserta said as she looked up at the emergency exit hatch above their heads. He head snapped around to look at Trunks. “Wonder boy, jump up on my shoulders, you should be able to reach it.”

 

Trunks sighed, but agreed. “Okay,” he said, and Laiserta turned and took a knee in front of him.

 

He hesitated, and Laiserta sensed it. “Come on,” she chided him, “you don't weight nearly enough to bother me.”

 

Trunks reluctantly climbed up onto his comrade's shoulders. Laiserta grabbed his ankles and started to stand up, and Trunks nearly lost his balance because she moved so quickly. He flailed his arms for a moment to recover, and leaned forward.

 

“You ready?” Laiserta asked, still crouching but up off of her knees.

 

“Yeah,” Trunks glanced down at her before looking back up at the exit hatch. It wasn't far above him now, and if Laiserta stood up completely he might hit his head against the ceiling. Trunks ducked slightly as Laiserta stood up fully. Now the hatch was easily within his reach. He grabbed the metal lever and attempted to pull, but it was stuck.

 

“You're gonna have to pull harder than that,” Laiserta said beneath him. Trunks didn't need to look at her face to know she was teasing him; he could hear it in her voice.

 

“Fine,” Trunks said and started putting more muscle into it. “But if we both fall then it's your fault,” he added through gritted teeth, pulling at the stupid lever with all of his might. Considering the age of the ship, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that the damn thing didn't want to move.

 

Laiserta leaned back slightly, helping Trunks by putting both her weight and his into it. The lever finally started inching backward, and Trunks kept pulling as hard as he could manage. After a few agonizing seconds, it finally popped loose. Luckily Laiserta dropped down to one knee, absorbing the force of Trunks falling backwards. She held onto his ankles with a death-grip and managed to keep him upright.

 

After regaining his balance _again_ , Trunks let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “Okay, take me up again,” he instructed his comrade. Laiserta stood up and Trunks reached up, grabbing the metal wheel on the door. He turned it four times and the door popped open. He stood up and pushed, and the door went up and fell aside to his left. Trunks lifted his head through the opening, squinting as the bright light of the Euphorian day filled his vision.

 

His eyes burned for a few seconds as he was blinded, and Trunks heard the sound of clicking all around him. When his vision came to, he realized that the clicking was from a group of soldiers pointing their weapons at him and preparing to fire.

 

Trunks's eyes widened as he realized they were surrounded, and there was nothing they could do. “Aw, crap,” he managed to say while lifting his hands up in surrender.

  


-+-

  


As they were marched back to the village in handcuffs, Trunks wondered when nightfall would hit Euphoria. Sure, it was the morning when they arrived but the day had felt long, as if the sun should start setting. Then again, he didn't know anything about how long a Euphorian day was. His eyes drifted back down from the sun above to the soldiers in front of him, leading their way back into the village.

 

The mercenaries were led to the two story house that Marice had disappeared into the last time they were in the village. The soldiers ahead of him stopped, so Trunks and his comrades behind him did the same. “Inside,” someone shouted, and before Trunks had an opportunity to move, someone shoved their rifle into his back. He fell a half-step forward and scowled.

 

“Take them inside and secure them with the other one,” the soldier that appeared to be in charge called out.

 

“Yes sir!” several men answered in unison before they surrounded the mercenaries. Two men grabbed Trunks by his arms, his hands still cuffed behind his back, and dragged him forward into the building. Inside the front door, the mercenaries were dragged to a room off to the right in the back, and Trunks's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Sitting on the damaged wooden floor was Marice, her hands secured behind her back and chained to metal hook secured into the floor. Trunks watched her as he was pushed into position, and Marice looked up at him from under her bangs with a troubled visage.

 

Moments later, after the three mercenaries were forced to sit with their backs each other, their handcuffs also chained to the floor with Marice. The soldiers left after being called for on their radios. There was an awkward minute of silence when Marice opened her mouth to speak. “Hold it,” Laiserta immediately said, her eyes staring out of the house and not toward Marice. Surprised, the Euphorian said nothing and looked at the back of Laiserta's head.

 

The building was quiet, and bits of dust floated in the air. Trunks watched Laiserta closely; she sat to his right while Marice was on his left. Trunks listened, and what sounded like several vehicles started up before pulling away.

 

“All right, they're gone,” Laiserta finally said, turning her red eyes toward Trunks.

 

“I'm sorry,” Marice immediately began but was cut short by Laiserta's bitter laughter.

 

“Kid, you aren't sorry now, _but you will be,”_ she started, scoffing darkly.

 

“What's going on?” Armada cut in. She had her back to Laiserta and sat next to Marice, on the Euphorian's left. Before Marice could begin explaining herself, Armada added, “Those soldiers are Tyrian military. What do they want?”

 

“They want the flight recorder,” Marice said flatly, her face falling into more serious lines. “They promised more supplies than you. I had to do the best I could,” she swallowed and hesitated. “Everyone here is depending on me. The village needs supplies badly, and I had to try and get the most that I could.”

 

Trunks begrudgingly understood Marice's position. He would do anything to protect the people of Earth, even if it meant selling out some interstellar bounty hunters. Honestly, Trunks was ready to blast the Bmyhadian ship out of the sky the moment it started descending upon Earth, but his mother had convinced him not to, thank _Kami_.

 

“It's okay,” Trunks said softly and turned to look at Marice on his left. Her troubled eyes met his, but she said nothing in response. “I understand why you did it. If I was in your shoes, I would have probably done the same thing,” he added, shooting her a small smile. The anxiety on Marice's face faded slightly and she returned Trunks's smile with one of her own.

 

“Tch, don't be nice to her,” Laiserta complained, bumping Trunks's shoulder with hers. “She got us into this mess.”

 

“And I'm sure we can get out of it,” Trunks answered, giving Laiserta a knowing glance.

 

“Do they have it?” Armada asked, changing the conversation. After a quick few seconds of silence, she clarified “The flight recorder.”

 

Marice nodded and looked at Armada, who sat on her left. “I had already salvaged it myself, but they didn't know that. When I called them to tell them about you, they came back to the village and tied me up. They found it when they searched the house,” she added.

 

“Then why the hell are they still here?” Laiserta griped, clearly angry.

 

“Probably because they figured they could get a decent bounty on a few mercenaries,” Trunks answered. Laiserta huffed in response but said nothing.

 

“How far out of town are they?” Armada asked.

 

“Far enough,” Laiserta replied. “They left two guys outside the front door of this house, but they're not paying attention to us right now.”

 

“Then get us out of here,” Armada ordered plainly.

 

“Yeah yeah,” Laiserta muttered and leaned forward. She easily snapped the handcuffs when she pulled her hands apart behind her back. She stood up and pulled the remnants of the cuffs off of her wrists, and Marice stared at her in shock.

 

Laiserta quickly got to work and broke apart the handcuffs on Trunks, and then Armada. With her comrades free, Laiserta stood over Marice and glared down at her. Marice stared back, wide-eyed and clearly stunned by what had just happened. She had never seen anyone rip apart metal like Laiserta had just done, and so _effortlessly_ at that. Marice knew that not all outsiders were like Laiserta, but how many more were? What kind of people were living in the universe, and what were they capable of? Marice lost herself in her thoughts for a moment.

 

“What's the plan?” Trunks asked and looked to Armada.

 

“We can't take on an entire Tyrian unit right now, so we need to go back to the ship,” Armada responded. She turned to Laiserta. “Lai, cut her loose,” Armada ordered, motioning toward Marice with her head.

 

Laiserta grumbled something that Trunks couldn't hear before she reached down and pulled the young Euphorian woman to her feet. Marice was snapped out of her daze as Laiserta ripped apart the handcuffs on her wrists. Marice rubbed at her wrists in surprise before looking back up at the three mercenaries standing before her.

 

“If you don't want to be left here for your Tyrian friends, you'll make yourself useful to us,” Armada barked out. “Understand?” Marice nodded vigorously. Armada turned her attention to Laiserta once more. “Lai,” she started.

 

“Yeah, I got it,” Laiserta said, rolling her shoulders as she headed for the door. The rest followed behind her as she casually strolled out into the front room and made her way to the entry of the house. She suddenly stopped short. “Wait a second,” she said lowly to herself and turned to her left. There was an old chest on the ground, and she walked over to it. Flinging open the lid, Laiserta revealed the weapons that had been confiscated from the group. She reached in and pulled out Trunks's sword, quickly tossing it to him.

 

Marice walked over and looked down in the chest as Laiserta picked up both of her pistols and holstered them. The Euphorian reached in and pulled out her two black sai, studying them for a moment. “Hey kid,” Laiserta addressed her, drawing Marice's attention. Laiserta was sliding the black pole she carried into the back of her trench coat when Marice looked up. “You coming?”

 

“Yeah,” Marice replied and nodded, quickly sliding her sai into place on the back of the over-sized leather belt she wore.

 

The Taydran turned away from her and walked straight toward the front door. Laiserta raised a foot and kicked the door, sending it flying off its hinges. The door flew out and slammed into one of the Tyrian soldiers left behind to watch the prisoners, who fell to the ground under the weight of the wooden door. The other soldier turned and shouted, but he was too late; Laiserta already had a pistol raised and shot him once in the left shoulder and twice in the left thigh. He dropped his weapon and fell to the ground, groaning in pain while holding onto the wounds in his leg.

 

Laiserta casually strolled up to the soldier under the door, and put three bullets into him as well. He stopped struggling underneath the busted wooden door on top of him, and Laiserta kicked it off. Just like the other soldier, she shot him in the shoulder and leg. She reached down and grabbed him by the collar of his uniform, and dragged him over to his comrade.

 

She dropped him to the ground next to the other soldier and looked at Marice. Marice did nothing but stare back at Laiserta, and after a moment the Taydran woman scowled. “Well tie them up already!” she shouted.

 

Marice jolted into action and ran over to the wounded soldiers. She didn't appear to know what to do, so Trunks walked over to help her. He pulled a set of handcuffs from one of the soldiers' packs and showed Marice how to secure their hands behind their backs.

 

With that accomplished, Laiserta picked up the assault rifle that the soldier hit by the door had dropped on the ground. She turned to Armada and tossed the weapon to her, her comrade catching it with ease. “Wonder boy, grab his gun,” Laiserta called out to Trunks. Trunks glanced up at Laiserta and Armada before picking up the remaining assault rifle that laid on the ground next to the two wounded soldiers. “I hope you know how to use that,” Laiserta added with a smirk.

 

Before Trunks could reply to his comrade's quip, the sound of voices approaching drew everyone's attention. A group of soldiers emerged from behind several tents across the village. “Everyone get down!” Armada shouted, and the mercenaries ran for cover.

 

Trunks ran over to a low, crumbling concrete wall and dropped to his knees behind it. A second later, Marice ducked behind him. Armada dropped not far from where she stood, taking a position behind the well in the center of town. Laiserta had moved away from the others and stood behind a makeshift wooden wall that was part of a shack across from the well.

 

The Tyrian soldiers heard the shouting and started running toward the mercenaries. Before they realized what was happening, Armada peeked her upper body out of cover and started firing on the soldiers with the stolen assault rifle. Using short bursts, she took out five soldiers in quick succession before she dove back down behind the well. The remaining soldiers fired at her, peppering the well with bullet holes as bits of stone debris chipped off into the air.

 

With her comrade drawing their enemies' attention, Laiserta took the opportunity to attack. She stepped out halfway from behind the wall of the shack and started firing with just one pistol in one hand. She quickly downed the rest of the group with well-placed shots in their shoulders, causing them to drop their weapons. With all eleven of the soldiers injured, Laiserta ran over to the group and started kicking their weapons away from their bodies.

 

The rest of the mercenaries joined her, and within a few minutes they had all of the soldiers handcuffed and tied up together in a group, sitting on the busted asphalt in the center of the village. Trunks looked up from the soldiers back to his comrades, first at Laiserta and then Armada. “Now what?” he asked.

 

Armada knelt down next to one of the soldiers with a curious look on her face. After searching him for a few moments, she finally found what she was looking for – his radio. She pulled the small device out of his front uniform pocket and stood up while holding it. “Your soldiers are wounded and have been captured. If you want them back alive, return to the village with the flight recorder. We'll exchange your men for the device,” Armada said without hesitation into the radio. Everyone was silent for a few moments while they awaited the reply on the radio. Several tense seconds later, the reply came.

 

 _“We will return to the village now and bring the unit with us,”_ a deep male voice responded.

 

Armada's hand holding the radio dropped away from her face. She turned toward her comrades and immediately issued orders. “Laiserta, get eyes on them as soon as you can so we know where they're approaching from. Trunks,” she turned toward the Earthling and motioned for him to approach her.

 

Trunks did as instructed, and Marice tailed behind him. When he approached Armada, she finished hooking the radio onto her belt, and then lifted up the assault rifle that was hanging by the strap across her shoulders. “Do you know how to fire a weapon?” she asked him flatly.

 

“Yes,” Trunks answered without hesitation. When he was fairly young, his mother had taught him how to shoot a rifle. It wasn't going to help against the androids, and Bulma knew that. It had more to do with looters who tried to rob their home in West City on a regular basis.

 

Whether Armada believed him or not, she held up the assault rifle with the butt of the gun against the inside of her right shoulder. “Hold it up against your chest to stabilize your shots,” she instructed, “and always use both hands. When you aim, keep both eyes open. And fire in short bursts to minimize the re-targeting you'll have to do to compensate for recoil.”

 

Trunks nodded in response, and Armada's eyes drifted to his right. He followed her gaze to see her looking at Marice, who stood a few feet away from him. “Same goes for you,” Armada said, lowering the rifle from a firing position. “Go grab one of their guns, and I'll get you set into position,” she ordered. Marice nodded before running off toward the captured soldiers.

  


-+-

  


Captain Kozuki had his men stop their vehicles short of the village. He knew he was dealing with several skilled mercenaries, and he wanted his men to head in on foot, enabling them to listen to their surroundings better. As they approached the village, everyone had their weapons drawn. Kozuki knew they wouldn't have the ability to really approach from multiple directions, and thus his men moved in one group.

 

Upon entering the village proper, the soldiers could easily see their comrades bound and gagged in the center of the ruined town. Despite the urge to rush forward, Kozuki signaled his men to continue their slow approach. The Tyrian soldiers followed orders and maintained a controlled and careful approach. Once they reached their comrades, one of the mercenaries rose from a position behind a low concrete barrier across from them.

 

Armada stood up with her weapon drawn and pointed at the soldiers in front of her. They trained their weapons on her but didn't fire. “Do you have the flight recorder?” Armada asked, completely calm despite fourteen assault rifles aimed at her.

 

“I have it,” Captain Kozuki spoke up. “And you'll be leaving now, without it, unless you wish to die today,” he added. This wasn't a mission that required bloodshed, but he wasn't afraid to take down a target that had fired on his men.

 

“I don't think so,” Armada replied. Before any of the soldiers could respond, a recognizable 'click' coming from behind them drew their attention. Several soldiers turned to see that the other three prisoners were behind them with their own Tyrian assault rifles aimed at the group.

 

Kozuki could have ordered his men to attack, but the resulting loss of life would be something he wasn't sure he could live with over a flight recorder that would create an embarrassment for his nation, but wouldn't kill anyone. “Stand down,” he said, lowering his weapon and raising his hands above his head. His men followed suit with a few slight grumbles under their breath, but he knew that _they knew_ that he was right.

 

Laiserta laughed. “And here I thought you Tyrians were supposed to be geniuses when it came to warfare,” she said in a jovial, but mocking tone. She shot a smirk to Trunks and Marice, off to her right as they kept their weapons aimed at the soldiers.

 

The captain of the Tyrian squad approached Armada and handed over the flight recorder, a small metal box with some writing on the outside. Once she had it in hand and confirmed that it was indeed what they had traveled to Euphoria for, Armada nodded to her comrades. Keeping their weapons focused on the Tyrians, they made they way over to Armada.

 

“We'll be leaving now,” Armada said to the Tyrian squad leader. “Don't try to follow us,” she said with a warning tone.

 

“Yeah,” Laiserta laughed, “I can see you approaching from a few kilometers away, so don't try it.” She shrugged, showing off the two assault rifles she held – one in each hand. “You'd be surprised how far away I can nail a shot with one of these things.”

 

The mercenaries then slowly started to make their way out of the village, walking backwards to keep an eye on the soldiers they were leaving behind. The captain said something to his men; Trunks couldn't hear it as they were starting to get out of earshot. The soldiers then knelt down next to their injured and bound comrades, working to free them from their restraints. It seemed that Armada's plan was working.

 

Once the mercenaries were back into the cover of the jungle, they turned and started walking normally. Laiserta kept glancing back to make sure the Tyrians weren't following them, and they made no moves to indicate they planned to. Trunks glanced at Marice, who walked along with them, and wondered what she would do. Would she wait for the soldiers to leave before heading back? She wouldn't have the flight recorder, but would they stay to exact revenge on her? His heart was heavy with worry for the young woman, and the feeling only grew worse the farther they moved away from the village.

 

Finally the group made it back to the small clearing where Armada had landed the ship. Laiserta glanced back one last time toward the village. “Yeah, they're not following,” she said, the two Tyrian weapons hanging from her left shoulder banging together as she walked. “We're good to go.”

 

Heading toward the rear of the ship, Armada pulled the Tyrian radio from her belt and dropped it on the ground before stomping on it with her foot, breaking the device apart. She then pulled a small silver remote from her belt and pressed a button, causing the cargo bay to open and start lowering a ramp down to the ground.

 

Marice stopped short as the mercenaries kept walking toward the back of the ship, preparing to embark once the ramp lowered to the ground completely. Marice let out a long, shaky breath, and clenched her hands at her sides. She knew it was now or never, and with the opportunity in front of her, she knew she would never get it again. Which meant that she had to act now.

 

“Wait!”

 

Just as they had started walking up the ramp into the ship, Trunks and his comrades turned to the Euphorian woman who had shouted at them. Marice ran forward, closing some distance between herself and the others but not daring to put a foot onto the ship itself. “Take me with you!” she pleaded, her eyebrows pulled together in concern over her light blue eyes. Eyes that were full of determination and reminded him of eyes he had seen in the mirror on Earth during some of the darkest days of the androids' reign over the Earth.

 

“Hah! You've gotta be kidding,” Laiserta shouted back, clearly enjoying the situation. “What the hell would we need you for?”

 

“I'll do whatever you want; please!” Marice pleaded. “Just don't leave me here!”

 

Trunks felt awful. He knew this wasn't going to go well. Just as Laiserta had said, what would they need Marice for? At least, that wasn't how he would think of it, but he knew Armada would. Taking on Laiserta made sense, as she was a well known mercenary who had abilities to assist them. But Marice? Trunks wished he was already inside the ship and didn't have to watch this exchange happen, because it broke his heart.

 

“Do you realize what you're asking?”

 

Trunks was broken out of his thoughts by Armada's voice. He turned to look back up at her, as she was farther up the ramp than the rest of them. He was surprised by what he saw, though. Something about her expression was odd... he wasn't sure he could place it, but she wasn't angry or stern.

 

Marice took another step forward, her foot landing on the bottom of the ramp. “I don't want to stay here. Euphoria is a dead world,” she began. “Nobody here wants to help themselves or try to make things better. Some people won't even make any effort to feed themselves! I've tried to do the best I could, but I don't want to be dragged into an early grave here. Please...” she paused a moment. “Anything has to better than this.” Marice stared up at Armada, her face guarded but hopeful that something would reach through.

 

Trunks and Laiserta both turned to Armada, assuming it was her turn to speak. Armada's face appeared as stony as usual, but Trunks caught a glimpse of something there, in her eyes, that told him a different story. She seemed to empathize with Marice. Perhaps the Euphorian's words had reached her.

 

“We'll take you with us,” Armada finally replied. “But you're getting dropped off at the first refugee camp we come across,” she added before turning away from Marice and walking up into the ship.

 

Trunks turned back to Marice, who beamed with a wide smile across her face. She had her hands clenched into fists in front of herself, and she looked ready to jump in celebration. Her eyes met Trunks's, and he smiled brightly back at her in return. He didn't know what it was about her, but Trunks felt like he needed to look out for Marice. Knowing that she would get a chance at life off of Euphoria lifted his spirits in a way that he'd desperately needed since Quarry's murder. Marice ran up the ramp toward Trunks, and the demi-Saiyan glanced at Laiserta as she walked past him. She tried to hide it, but she had a small smile on her face as well.

 

Marice ran up to Trunks and pulled him into a tight hug, catching the Earthling off-guard. Marice's grip was stronger than Trunks thought it would be, and she knocked a little of the wind out of him. Marice released him and stepped back, her face turning red. “Um, sorry,” she said sheepishly, realizing she'd gone too far when she grabbed him like that.

 

Trunks laughed at her embarrassment. “It's okay,” he said with a smile. “Let's go,” he said, turning and heading into the ship. Marice happily followed behind him, nervous and excited about the new life ahead of her.

  


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That's it for today's chapter! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated; you have no idea how much it makes my day when someone leaves a review. Thanks for reading.

 

-Silvia


	20. Mission 12:  Honeypot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew visits Laiserta's homeworld of Taydr once more while taking on a job that goes off without a hitch. What happens after is a different story...

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Despite having visited First Mercy of Malleas hospital several times before, Trunks had never really taken in the surroundings. Every time he had been previously had been a crisis, for himself or someone else. Without the pressure of worrying about someone dying, Trunks could actually watch the hospital function. Despite the amazing technology the Bmyhadians possessed, the hospital wasn't unlike hospitals on Earth as far as how it operated. There were hospital staff, patients, and visitors heading from one place to another; doctors were frequently paged from a hospital-wide communications system; everyone complained about the food. Sometimes it really struck Trunks how different life was across the universe, and yet, how similar it was at the same time.

 

“Toran?”

 

Trunks looked up from his seat to see a male nurse calling his name. From the look on his face, the guy had no idea what 'Toran' looked like and was hoping that someone in this waiting area would answer. Trunks stood up, and the nurse looked at him. “Yes?” Trunks asked.

 

“You can come back now,” the male nurse nodded to him with a slight smile. “Follow me.”

 

A short trip down a few hallways and Trunks had arrived at the room in question. The nurse showed him the door and quickly left on another task. The door was open so Trunks didn't hesitate to enter.

 

“You might have some digestive issues with the medication, mostly diarrhea and intestinal cramping. If it gets really bad have your friends bring you back here,” Dr. Alten Rema spoke to his patient as Trunks entered.

 

“Okay,” Marice replied and nodded to Dr. Rema from where she sat on the examining table.

 

“Toran,” Dr. Rema turned and addressed Trunks. “I was just telling your friend Marice about the results of all of the tests.”

 

“And?” Trunks asked, an eyebrow raised. He'd hoped that everything had gone well, but there was really no way to tell.

 

“Great news, she's doing fine,” Dr. Rema quickly answered. “Looks like her genetics have gained a resistance to radiation, so that's good. However she still has high levels of radiation internally, so I'm prescribing a medication to accelerate the rate of radioactive decay.” He paused a moment to glance at Marice before looking back at Trunks. “I've never worked with a Euphorian patient before. Her DNA sample is way beyond my ability to comprehend,” Dr. Rema continued, sounding almost excited. “I've sent it to a colleague who is much smarter than me in the area of genetics in hopes that she can get a better analysis on it than I can.”

 

Trunks immediately felt nervous. “How often do you send off DNA samples?” Trunks asked, trying to sound curious but unconcerned. Had Dr. Rema sent his DNA to this colleague of his?

 

Dr. Rema laughed and it came out almost as a snort. “Not very often, she doesn't like to be pestered unless it's really fascinating. But Marice gave me permission and I'm sure that Dr. Luotone will be pleasantly surprised to receive the sample,” he finished with a smirk.

 

“Anyway Marice, you are free to go my dear,” Dr. Rema said, turning toward his patient once more. Marice jumped down from the exam table and looked up at the taller Dr. Rema. “If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call me, okay?” Rema added. Trunks was a bit surprised, as Rema sounded very fatherly with the caring tone he used when speaking to Marice.

 

“I will,” Marice replied. “Thank you Dr. Rema!” she said jovially.

 

Rema moved to leave but Trunks held out a hand to stop him. “Hey doctor,” he started, “what do we owe you?”

 

Rema smirked. “Nothing. You provide me with great research materials, especially bringing in someone from Euphoria. There's no charge.”

 

Trunks wasn't quite buying the doctor's answer. He was certain there was more going on. “So you let all your patients get free treatment if they provide you with interesting research? How does the hospital write off the bill for that?”

 

Rema sighed. “No, I foot the bill. It's part of an agreement I've made with your boss,” he answered quickly.

 

 _Armada,_ Trunks thought as his eyes narrowed slightly. “What exactly is this agreement?” Trunks asked. He wasn't letting the Bmyhadian doctor off the hook _that_ easily.

 

Rema smirked. “That's privileged information son, and you're not privileged enough to know.” With that said, the doctor hurriedly left the room.

 

Trunks frowned at the doctor's quick retreat. He was hoping to get more information from Rema, but the man was a lot more sly than he let on. Trunks supposed he could ask Armada about it, but he wasn't sure that would get him anywhere. Besides, he didn't want her to know he thought about these things. He liked to play dumb with her a bit, so that she might underestimate him. He knew she was his comrade, but he would say their alliance was still uneasy at best.

 

“Ready?” Marice asked, dragging Trunks out of his thoughts.

 

He turned and looked down at Marice, shooting her a bright smile. “Yeah, let's head back.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 12: Honeypot

 

 

-+-

 

 

Upon returning to the ship, Trunks and Marice entered the lounge to find the monitor playing the news at a low volume as Laiserta sat at the table watching it. “How'd it go?” she asked as Marice walked by and headed straight into the galley. Trunks stopped and stood on the other side of the table to talk to Laiserta.

 

“Dr. Rema says she's doing really well, considering everything,” he explained. “She's got a prescription to help flush the remaining radiation out of her system.”

 

“Wow, I'm shocked they didn't find anything seriously wrong,” Laiserta replied, her face showing genuine surprise.

 

“Yeah, me too, but I'm glad she's okay,” Trunks added. It wasn't his idea to take Marice to get checked out once they landed on Bmyhad; that was Armada's call. _'Take her to Dr. Rema for a full checkup,'_ she'd told him. _'No refugee program will accept her without proper medical history.'_

 

At that moment, Armada walked into the lounge from the back hallway, carrying a few tools in her hands. She had her hair tied back in a braid and she had soot smeared all over her clothes, hands and arms. She looked to her comrades, but before she spoke, Marice entered the lounge with a bottle of water in her hands. She bounded past Armada and sat down at the table to Laiserta's right.

 

Armada glanced at Marice and then Trunks. “What did Dr. Rema say?” she asked Trunks.

 

“He said she's doing fine despite the high levels of radiation. He wrote her a prescription to help eliminate the remaining radiation from her body,” he explained for the second time in the last minute.

 

Laiserta rose from her seat on the bench behind the table. “I think it's time for lunch,” she announced with a smile.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Over an hour later, Laiserta had finished eating and was in the galley cleaning up. Trunks and Marice were still seated at the table eating. Armada had already finished her meal and had a panel open in the wall of the lounge near the main monitor and was working on an issue in the ship's electrical wiring.

 

“So how far can you go in this ship?” Marice asked Trunks, continuing their conversation. She'd been asking him all kinds of questions and he'd been doing his best to answer.

 

“Anywhere, really,” Trunks replied after swallowing another bite. “We just have to make sure we've got enough fuel and we can go anywhere.”

 

Marice shook her head slightly and smiled. “Wow, it's so hard for me to imagine how big the rest of the universe is. I mean, I know people fly ships to other worlds, but it's not something we learn much about at home,” she explained.

 

“I know what you mean,” Trunks said, feeling the urge to laugh. Sure, he knew about space travel because his mother had given him a thorough education in the sciences, and she had regaled him with tales of her time on Namek when he was a child. But like Marice, it wasn't something he thought about. Additionally, the Earth wasn't surrounded by inhabited worlds like Euphoria was, and with the problems plaguing is own world, Trunks rarely thought about space and the wider universe. Marice's problems were different, but similar enough to his own that he could relate.

 

Laiserta emerged from the galley and fell into a seat on the bench next to Trunks. Marice squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, a grin plastered on her face. “Sometimes this is so hard to believe, that I'm not on Euphoria anymore,” she said excitedly while opening her eyes to look at Trunks again.

 

 _'You're telling me,'_ Trunks thought, though he chose not to voice those words. He wasn't as excited as Marice about being away from home. For her, it was an opportunity at a new life. For him... it was far more complicated.

 

“Oh you kids,” Laiserta spoke up, the smirk on her face matching her teasing tone. “You're almost so adorable that it hurts.”

 

“Kids?” Trunks repeated, raising an eyebrow at his Taydran comrade.

 

“Yeah, you don't look much older than us!” Marice added, her face suddenly morphing into concern.

 

“Pssh,” Laiserta waved off Marice, “that's because Taydrans age gracefully.”

 

“Well how old are you, exactly?” Marice countered, challenging Laiserta's comment.

 

“Thirty-three,” Laiserta answered coolly. “Well, thirty-six years RST,” she quickly amended. “Taydr's year is a little longer than RST.”

 

Marice now appeared confused. “What's 'RST?'” she repeated and blinked a few times in quick succession.

 

“Republican Standard Time,” Trunks replied. “The Republic created a time standard to ease confusion between different nations when they were dealing with one another.” He paused a moment but Marice still seemed a little lost. “That way, when people are discussing matters involving the passage of time or scheduling, everyone knows what everyone else is talking about,” he elaborated. It felt slightly strange to explain something to someone else instead of the other way around, but Trunks had learned quite a bit about the wider universe since he began traveling with Armada.

 

“Oooh,” Marice replied, finally understanding what Trunks was explaining to her. She was silent a moment and looked between both of her comrades before finally speaking. “Well, I'm eight years old!”

 

Trunks had chosen the wrong moment to sip from his water bottle. He immediately choked on the water in shock at Marice's statement. He leaned forward and coughed a few times; Laiserta slapped him on the back in an attempt to help.

 

“Wh- _what?_ ” Trunks finally managed, looking to Marice with shock on his face, who still beamed at him with pride.

 

“Oh calm down wonder boy,” Laiserta broke in. “Euphoria's year is over twice that of a year in RST. So if she's eight in Euphorian time, then she's probably,” Laiserta's eyes rolled up for a moment while she thought, “about eighteen or nineteen RST.”

 

Trunks sighed heavily and his head fell slightly. “Thank _Kami_ ; I was worried we had a little kid with us.”

 

“Hah,” Laiserta laughed spitefully, “then you'd better start worrying again because she is pretty much a baby.”

 

“I'm not a baby!” Marice huffed, pulling her lips in tight as her cheeks puckered out slightly. Laiserta smirked before sticking her tongue out at Marice in response.

 

Trunks turned to Laiserta and shot her an exasperated look at her actions. “And who's calling who a kid again?”

 

Marice looked down at her food again before another thought hit her. “Oh!” she said, her head shooting up and her gaze falling on Trunks. “How old are you, Trunks?” she asked enthusiastically.

 

Trunks had to stop and think for a moment at Marice's question. It had taken him by surprise slightly, sure; but the bigger issue was that he hadn't thought about his age in a while. Trunks looked down at his watch on his right hand and pressed a button to switch the digital display to the date. Trunks's eyes widened as he read the date on his watch. _January...?_ Trunks thought, his stomach twisting. According to his watch, he'd been gone from home for almost six months. He knew it was a significant amount of time, but he hadn't actively thought about exactly how long he'd been gone Seeing it so coldly in front of his face made his heart wrench in guilt. All that time had passed, and he'd really accomplished nothing toward his goal of destroying Rieve alongside Armada. He felt useless.

 

“You okay?” Laiserta asked, breaking Trunks from his thoughts.

 

“Yeah,” he replied, shaking his head and turning his attention to her. “I just didn't realize...” _'how much time had passed,'_ he'd stopped himself from saying. Laiserta didn't know anything about where Trunks was from and what he was really doing on the ship with Armada, and for now he wanted to keep it that way.

 

“I'm twenty-six now,” Trunks quickly amended to try recover from his almost-mishap. “I missed my birthday last month,” he explained. It was the truth, at any rate; his birthday was in late November and he hadn't even realized it had come and gone.

 

“Happy anniversary!” Marice cheered from her seat, a wide smile on her face.

 

Trunks turned toward the young woman and forced a smile. “Yeah... thanks,” he added lamely.

 

“You almost done with that?” Laiserta shouted at Armada who stood on the other side of the room, still working at the wiring behind the open panel in the wall near the monitor. “I wanna watch my favorite game show,” Laiserta continued.

 

Armada didn't respond, but continued working. The exchange, however, caught Marice's attention. “Armada, how old are you?” Marice asked happily.

 

Armada stopped what she was doing so she could turn and look back at Marice from where she stood. “About the same age as Trunks,” she answered flatly.

 

Trunks didn't let his emotions show on his face, but he _knew_ that Armada was lying. Based on things she had said and what Dax had told him, he estimated that she had to be _at least_ in her mid-forties. Sure, she looked young, but so did Bmyhadians like Devan who were much older than they appeared to be. Trunks knew that Armada was lying, but he didn't understand why. What advantage would she gain from lying about her age? She certainly wasn't vain enough to care if people thought she was 'old.' Or at least he thought so.

 

“'About the same age as Trunks;' why do you gotta be so damn cryptic?” Laiserta asked, mocking Armada's response with a higher pitched voice than her own. “What, is your age some big mysterious secret?”

 

Internally, Trunks wanted to laugh. He didn't have to press Armada for answers now that Laiserta was doing it for him. He made a mental note to thank her later, even if she didn't understand why.

 

After answering Marice's question, Armada had turned back toward the open electrical panel. She turned and looked pointedly at Laiserta. “I'm approximately twenty-six years old, RST,” Armada stated coldly. “Happy now?” she asked bitterly.

 

“ _'Approximately,'_ ” Laiserta repeated. “Ooooh, you're so badass that even your age is top-secret!” she chided while shaking her hands in front of her, pretending to be afraid. Trunks couldn't help the smile small that crossed his face as Laiserta picked on Armada.

 

Armada narrowed her eyes at Laiserta. “It's an approximation because I don't know exactly when I was born,” she spat.

 

Laiserta's visage quickly changed in response. “Why don't you know your own date of birth?” she asked, this time much more seriously than she had carried the conversation thus far.

 

“Because the only people who knew died before I was old enough for them to tell me,” Armada replied bluntly, her eyes still narrowed in irritation. Everyone was silent in response, and Armada turned back around to return to her work. “You'll get your monitor back when I'm done,” she said with her back still facing her comrades, answering Laiserta's earlier question.

 

Trunks quietly finished his lunch and thought about what he'd just seen. Armada didn't seem to be lying about not knowing her birthday... but she was definitely lying about the rest of it. He just needed to figure out why. Because if she was lying, then she was hiding something.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The next day, Armada called Trunks and Laiserta to meet with her in the lounge about a job. Marice stood nearby, sipping water and watching as the three mercenaries huddled around the laptop computer that Armada had sitting on the table in the lounge.

 

“Lutz Deitreich,” Armada said plainly as she brought up a dossier on her laptop, revealing the face of a haggard man with short dark hair and stubble across his jaw. “He was recently prosecuted for sexual assault against several minors in Hrimth, however he got off free due to a technicality. The Hrimth police department made an error when processing evidence and it was enough for the judge to declare a mistrial,” she continued, and brought up several news articles about the trial.

 

“Oh I've heard of this scumbag,” Laiserta said, standing to the side of the table and leaning down over Armada to look at the screen. “He preys on young girls on the streets, figuring no one cares about them if they do report him,” Laiserta spat, clearly disgusted. “The asshole is only a Taydran citizen because he fled conflict in LOKI and _we_ granted him asylum,” she added, throwing her hands up in defeat.

 

“An _anonymous donor_ is offering four hundred thousand betas for a mercenary to pick up Lutz and drop him off into someone else's custody,” Armada began explaining the job offer with a guarded tone.

 

“You don't think it's just an upstanding Taydran citizen, do you?” Trunks asked Armada with a smirk. He sat next to her at the table in the lounge, to her right.

 

“No,” Armada replied. “This looks and smells like spec-ops, however you slice it.”

 

Laiserta had moved over to the monitor on the wall and turned it on, changing the channel to a Taydran national news station while keeping the volume low. “Probably TSIA,” Laiserta cut in, turning around to face her comrades. “They have easy access to dark money and they're not shy about hiring mercenaries for things like this.”

 

“My guess is that's who we would be delivering Deitreich to,” Armada added.

 

“Hah, good riddance,” Laiserta laughed darkly with a slight shrug. “They'll make him disappear and the universe is a better place with one less piece of garbage running around free,” she spat.

 

“So how do we find this guy?” Trunks asked, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

 

“He's been in hiding since the trial, so we'll need to draw him out,” Armada answered. “The intel included with the job posting indicates that he's believed to still be in Hrimth. It also provided a comm address for him.”

 

“Well there's one thing that will get a pedophile to come out of hiding,” Laiserta trailed off.

 

“Another victim,” Trunks filled in, understanding what Laiserta was thinking.

 

Armada opened up another file on her laptop. “According to the court documents, all of Deitreich's victims were young women between the ages of thirteen and sixteen RST,” Armada said before looking at Trunks. The three mercenaries were silent for a moment while they thought.

 

The sound of someone sipping from a straw in an empty cup filled the silence in the lounge. Three sets of eyes turned and looked at Marice who was standing in the doorway to the galley. “You know, I could help you guys out with your job,” Marice offered once her shipmates were looking at her.

 

“No,” Armada immediately answered, her face growing stern.

 

“It's not a bad idea,” Laiserta mused, one hand on her chin while she thought.

 

“ _No_ ,” Armada repeated.

 

“Come on spider-head, she can pass for a young kid,” Laiserta chided. “Besides, where else are you gonna find someone to be the bait? None of us are this guy's _type_ ,” she added, looking pointedly at the blonde woman.

 

“I can do it!” Marice chimed in, moving over to the table. “Let me help, please! As a way to thank you for taking me away from Euphoria,” she added, smiling broadly.

 

“I'm kind of with Armada on this one,” Trunks broke in. “I don't think we should drag Marice into this,” he said while looking at Laiserta.

 

“Come on, all we have to do is use her to video chat with the guy and get him to agree to meet. When he shows up, we grab him before anything bad happens, and we net a cool four-hundred-thousand. Easy,” Laiserta continued, now more sold on her plan than ever before.

 

Trunks thought it over. Laiserta was right; they only needed Marice to get Deitreich to agree to meet somewhere. They would be ready for him and lay an ambush, and between the three of them, taking down one guy shouldn't be a problem, even if they met inside a Minovsky field. Trunks turned back toward Armada, who seemed to be looking to him for guidance. “Actually... I think Lai's right,” he started, while Laiserta shouted _'Yes!'_ aloud to herself.

 

Armada turned back to stare at her laptop screen, her right hand forming a fist in front of her mouth while she thought. After a long moment of silence, she finally relented. “Fine, we'll use Marice, but _only_ in the video chats; we won't bring her on-site to the meetup,” Armada said sternly, looking at both of her comrades.

 

“I promise I won't let you down!” Marice said, nearly jumping with joy.

 

“I'm going to set us on a course for Taydr,” Armada said while closing her laptop. She stood and looked to both of her comrades, her gaze falling hard on Trunks. She looked as if she was about to say something, but instead turned and walked out of the lounge.

 

“This is so cool, I'm gonna help you guys catch a bad guy!” Marice nearly shouted, barely containing her excitement.

 

“Slow down there, kiddo,” Laiserta said while patting the excited red-head on the top of her head. “First thing's first, when we get to Hrimth we have _got_ to get you some new clothes,” she said, staring hard at Marice's dark, patchwork clothing from Euphoria. “Something a little less post-apocalyptic, more Taydran teeny-bopper,” Laiserta added with a smirk.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After landing in Hrimth and securing the ship with the help of Laiserta's local connections, Trunks and his comrades headed for downtown. Laiserta drove them in a rental car, explaining that they would use her home as their base of operations. When she pulled into the parking garage of a high-rise, Trunks hadn't thought too much of it. When Laiserta swiped a keycard and they rode the elevator to the top floor, however, he exchanged a curious glance with Armada, who seemed as perplexed as him.

 

Once the elevator doors opened, Laiserta stepped forward eagerly. “And we're here!” she announced while throwing her arms wide before turning around to look at her comrades.

 

Trunks stared in awe at the 'apartment' he now stood in. The room was completely open in front of them, revealing a huge living space. Tall white walls lead up to a white ceiling with ornate molding in all of the corners. Floor-to-ceiling windows off to his left showed off the Hrimth skyline, with the afternoon sun pouring in to light the space. The decorations were sparse, but appeared to be unique, like pieces of art. Overall, it reminded him of the luxury _space station_ where he had first met Laiserta.

 

“Wow,” Marice was the first to say after a long moment of silence. She stepped forward from behind Trunks and Armada, slowly walking toward Laiserta.

 

“Well at least someone appreciates it,” Laiserta remarked sarcastically, shooting accusatory glances at her two silent guests. She turned and followed Marice farther into the apartment, leaving Trunks and Armada standing just outside the elevator.

 

Armada spotted the open kitchen, which included a table with seating for four. “Start setting up on the table over there,” Armada said to Trunks, nodding her head toward the kitchen. “I'll find out where we're putting the other end,” she added before following after Laiserta. Trunks and his comrade had carried in large duffel bags with the necessary computer equipment for their job. He did as she instructed and made his way over to the kitchen, unloading the bag on the table.

 

“Lai, where are we setting up Marice?” Armada called out to her comrade who had disappeared into another room.

 

“Over here in the guest bedroom,” Laiserta replied, emerging from a doorway behind the kitchen.

 

While the others were getting to work, Marice had wandered into the master bedroom. It looked just as un-lived-in as the rest of the apartment. She slowly walked around the bed before finding the closet. Taking a peek inside, Marice raised an eyebrow at the mostly empty closet. A few empty hangars were accompanied by exactly two trench coats similar to the black one Laiserta wore. “You really don't have many clothes, do you?” Marice asked, not making an attempt to shout to Laiserta.

 

The Euphorian teen then made her way over to a chest of drawers, opening them to find a few more garments but nothing that she recognized. She picked up one bright blue item, and it was much larger than she thought when she lifted the top of the folded pile. “What is this?” Marice asked mostly to herself.

 

“ _Hey!_ ” Laiserta shouted as she marched into her room and snatched the garment from Marice's hand. “Don't you know it's rude to go through other people's belongings?!” she demanded, an irritated look on her face. Marice merely shrugged in response before walking around Laiserta and out of the Taydran woman's room.

 

Marice headed back out toward the open living area and toward the kitchen, where Trunks was finishing setting up several computers and monitors. “I've got both nodes on the network now, do you see them?” Trunks asked loudly, shouting so that Armada would hear him in the other room. He looked up from the two monitors while awaiting her response.

 

“I see you; joining the network now,” Armada replied.

 

Trunks's eyes fell back down to the top-most monitor of the two he had setup, and the screen shifted to an image of Armada standing in front of a camera in the guest bedroom. “You're online,” Trunks shouted again. “Signal looks good,” he added.

 

Armada left the guest bedroom and came over to look at the setup with Trunks. “Hah, a regular techie now, wonder boy?” Laiserta asked while walking past the pair.

 

Trunks glanced at Laiserta but didn't reply. His mother was one of the most intelligent humans on Earth, even before the androids had nearly decimated the human race. He knew a fair amount about computer infrastructure back home, so picking up how to use computers on Bmyhad or on the ship wasn't a difficult task for him in the least.

 

Laiserta reached her destination near the elevator, and found a large brown box placed nearby. Marice bounded over to watch what her hostess was doing. “What's that?” Marice asked as Laiserta easily lifted the box from the floor.

 

She walked over to one of the couches in the sitting room and set the box down before proceeding to rip open the tape across the top. “Some stuff I ordered online for you,” Laiserta replied, a smirk growing on her face. “Since you need to look the part of lonely Taydran jailbait,” she added with a dark laugh.

 

Laiserta started pulling out items and tossing them aside on the sofa, while Marice started picking them up and looking through them. Once she reached the bottom of the box, Laiserta beamed. “Ah, here it is,” she said, pulling out a black bag. She ripped the bag open, revealing a long haired dark brown wig. “The final touch,” Laiserta said, turning toward Marice and plopping the wig down ungraciously on the teenager's head.

 

Marice looked curiously at the long dark bangs that were hovering over her eyes from where Laiserta had carelessly set the wig on her head. “What's this for?” Marice finally asked, her eyes tracking back up to Laiserta's.

 

“Your hair makes you stick out like a sore thumb,” Laiserta replied. “At least with this, you'll look more like a native Taydran, even though you're much paler than most.” Laiserta smiled triumphantly at Marice, who still carried a blank look on her face. “Now, go get dressed so we can get this show on the road,” Laiserta added, picking up the pile of clothes and shoving them into Marice's arms. Marice struggled to hold everything, but nodded and headed toward the bedroom to do as she was told.

 

Laiserta headed over to the kitchen, passing her comrades at the table and moving to grab something to drink from the refrigerator. Armada sat at the table with her laptop open, talking to Trunks. “With this we'll be able to remotely control Marice's computer, and record everything that happens,” she explained, demonstrating the ability to Trunks as she opened up a video chat program on the remote computer which displayed on the lower monitor on the table. “We'll be able to watch from here as she chats with Deitreich,” she added, pointing to the monitor from her seat.

 

Trunks was standing at her side, nodding as she explained the setup. It wasn't complicated for him to grasp. He'd worked with computers and other technology at home. Considering his lineage on his mother's side, he'd be a family embarrassment if he couldn't do simple things like this.

  
Laiserta had turned on a small monitor in the kitchen and changed the channel to a local Taydran news station. She was sipping her drink and watching the news, before she finished off the can and tossed it in the garbage. Just as she moved to get another can from the fridge, a news story suddenly caught her attention.

 

“ _An information leak from the Justice Department today has revealed that Dr. Baqir Ibrahim, convicted of over four hundred counts of torture in the Lorraine Medical Company scandal almost twenty-five years ago, is being transferred from the ultra-max facility in Freising to the new maximum security prison at Uslar.”_

 

Laiserta stared at the screen, her right fist involuntarily clenching as she tried to keep her composure. She had no idea why they were moving _that bastard_ out of Freising, but she couldn't ignore it. A brief memory of Dr. Ibrahim's smile floated up in her mind, and she wanted to put a bullet through the screen in front of her, despite knowing how futile the action would be.

 

“ _The NIS is investigating the source of the leak, but at this point in time it's unknown. The Justice Department has not responded to any of our inquiries at this time, but we will be following up on this story.”_

 

Trunks glanced up at Laiserta over in the kitchen, and despite only seeing her in profile, he could view the stern look on her face. It wasn't an expression she wore often, and she was staring at the monitor in the kitchen with a rare intensity for her. “Hey Lai,” he called out, “you okay?”

 

Laiserta immediately turned to Trunks and flashed him the typical lackadaisical smile she wore. “Of course wonder boy. We're hanging out in my swank pad, what's there to be worried about?” she asked with a carefree, light tone.

 

“Okay,” Trunks replied with a slight laugh. Perhaps he was looking too deeply; this was Laiserta after all. She hardly carried a serious bone in her body.

 

At that moment, Marice finally emerged from the guest bedroom. “Well, how do I look?” she asked, holding her arms out to her sides.

 

Trunks looked over to see Marice standing just outside the kitchen. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt cut off just under her breasts, exposing her midriff; a pair of shorts that could barely be called as much; over-the-knee tights and what looked like suspenders that held on to her shorts and went up over her shoulders. Her hair was a long dark brown, cut in thick, wavy layers that fell down to her lower back, with long bangs swooped to the side over her eyes. She looked like a completely different person.

 

Seeing her dressed like that, Trunks suddenly felt awkward. “Uh...” he tried to think of something to say in response, but nothing was clear in his mind. She looked _bad_ , but he supposed the look would attract a pedophile? The more he thought about the idea, the more sick and awkward he felt.

 

“Haha! I'm a genius!” Laiserta shouted victoriously as she walked over to Marice. “You look great! I mean, not really, you look horrible,” Laiserta amended, “but that's exactly what kids these days are wearing so you look the part.” Laiserta paused a moment and thought. “Hmm, but we've gotta cover up your tattoo,” she said, pointing to the black tattoo on Marice's upper left arm, “because minors can't get tattoos on Taydr. Let's go look through everything and find something to cover it up.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Marice nodded and followed Laiserta back into the guest bedroom.

 

After they had disappeared from his sight, Trunks sighed heavily. “I don't know how I feel about this,” he said aloud to himself.

 

“Me neither.”

 

Trunks turned and looked down at Armada, who seemed just as disturbed as he was. _I guess even someone like her has to draw the line somewhere,_ Trunks thought, still feeling no better about this job than before.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Under the cover of night, Trunks walked quickly but kept bent over so he didn't cross any sight lines while getting into position. Once he had reached the western side of the dilapidated yellow house, he moved along the outer wall and kept his head below the bottom of the windows. He moved all the way to the back of the house and peered around the corner, to make sure the coast was clear. No one was in the back yard, and the lights were turned off. Just then he saw his comrade Armada lean around the corner from the east side of the house, and the pair made eye contact. She nodded to Trunks, and he moved around to the back side of the house, settling down on one knee beside the back entrance into the home.

 

“ _Spider-head and wonder boy are in position, you're clear to approach,”_ Laiserta's voice crackled over the radio in Trunks's right ear.

 

“ _Okay,”_ Marice replied softly.

 

Laiserta watched from their parked vehicle down the street in the run-down neighborhood where Deitreich had agreed to meet Marice. The young woman posing as a teenager slowly walked down the sidewalk toward the yellow home in question without a care in the world, despite the not-so-great neighborhood she was in. Laiserta shook her head; the kid was a good actress, that was for sure.

 

Marice skipped up the steps to the home, her long dark brown hair swaying as she did so. She tapped softly on the wooden front door and giggled, keeping a smile plastered onto her face. She was pretending to be a naughty teenager meeting up for sex, so she kept the pretense going even when no one was watching. It was easier that way.

 

After a minute of silence, Marice raised her fist to knock again when she heard several clicks on the other side of the door. She held off, and a few seconds later the door swung open, little paint flakes falling from the door where the paint was peeling. The home was dark inside, and Marice peered in only to be stopped when Deitreich's face appeared to greet her.

 

“Hey,” he said and smiled. “Come on in,” he added, stepping back to open the door all the way and let Marice enter.

 

She followed him inside and he closed and locked the door behind her. She looked around; the house had no furniture and was clearly in disrepair. It looked a lot like homes on Euphoria, which was a bit surprising to her. Deitreich switched on a lamp, filling the room with a dim light. With more light to see, Marice now saw a mattress on the floor near the kitchen, where some computer equipment was setup on a table.

 

“Would you like something to drink?” Deitreich asked, walking over to the kitchen to open the refrigerator.

 

Marice had already been warned about this, so she politely declined. “No thank you,” she said sweetly, brushing some of her hair over her shoulder. The scary thing about Deitreich, in her mind, was that he looked like a normal person, and was somewhat handsome. She knew he was a monster and preyed on young girls, but that he couldn't be quickly identified as such was what worried her. Despite all of that, she knew her comrades were waiting for the right moment to burst in and take down their target, so she wasn't afraid of him in that moment.

 

“All right,” Deitreich replied. He moved over to two chairs setting near his computer in the kitchen. “Come over here and have a seat by me, then?”

 

Marice giggled, before slowly moving in his direction. _“Okay, he's sufficiently distracted, move in,”_ she heard Laiserta say over the radio to the two mercenaries she knew were waiting outside.

 

As soon as Laiserta had given the signal, Trunks used his ki to move faster than normal eyes could track. He burst through the back door with ease before flying through the house, past Marice and into the kitchen where with a quick, solid hit to the base of the neck, Deitreich dropped to the ground like a stone.

 

Armada was on Trunks's heels when he moved, and stood behind him after he had taken down their target. “Nice work,” she said shortly before kneeling next to Deitreich's unconscious form.

 

“You okay?” Trunks asked Marice.

 

She nodded in response. “I'm fine. Nothing happened,” she added with a relieved smile.

 

“ _Of course nothing happened,”_ Laiserta's voice cut in over the radios in her comrades' ears. _“With me running as air traffic control over here, nothing was going to happen. But of course, I get none of the credit,”_ she added, sighing heavily for affect.

 

Armada had rolled over their prisoner and put handcuffs around his wrists, securing them behind his back. “Pull the car up so we can get out of here,” Armada said flatly into the radio.

 

“ _Roger that,”_ Laiserta replied. Armada lifted up Deitreich as she stood up, and then hefted him up over her shoulder, like she was carrying a heavy bag. Without another the word, she headed for the front door to the house, kicking it open and tearing the door off of its hinges. Trunks and Marice followed closely behind as they approached the street, just as Laiserta pulled up with their black rental car.

 

Laiserta rolled down the window on the driver's side. “You need any help with that?” she asked as Armada moved to walk around the car by the back while her comrades moved around the front.

 

“Open the trunk,” Armada called out over her shoulder. The trunk popped open slightly, and Armada opened it the rest of the way before carelessly tossing Deitreich inside. After securing his limbs, she shut the lid and moved around to sit in the front passenger seat, the last open seat in the car.

 

Armada nearly fell into her seat and pulled the door shut tightly. “We good?” Laiserta asked as her comrade fastened her seatbelt.

 

“Head to the drop,” Armada ordered before picking up a phone she had left sitting in the center console of the vehicle. She dialed a number while Laiserta pulled away from the beat-down yellow house where they had picked up Deitreich, taking off into the night.

 

From another house on the same block, a young man watched from the front window between a set of curtains as the black car rolled past him and on down the street. He let the curtains fall back into place as he turned around to look at his friend, another young man not much older than him. “We'd better call Niko,” he said, his friend nodding in response.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Whoa, this is so cool!” Marice exclaimed, completely stunned by the sight before her.

 

“Heh, it is, isn't it?” Laiserta laughed. Watching Marice's reaction to things that appeared mundane to the rest of the universe had become her new favorite pastime since she and the Euphorian teen had left her apartment this morning to hit the town. After turning in their captured pedophile last night and receiving their reward, Armada wanted the group to leave immediately. Fortunately for Laiserta, Marice and Trunks were tired and didn't want to pack up in the middle of the night. With the other two crew members on her side, Laiserta was able to wear down Armada and convince her to let them stay at least another day. Laiserta had a love-hate relationship with her homeworld that was by all accounts very complicated. But she did enjoy the food and shopping, so for now she was going to enjoy doing those two activities while she had the chance. It had been nearly a year since she'd stopped by her home in Hrimth, and she did miss it.

 

Marice had moved closer to the water fountain, watching as water was shot up in intricate displays to match the timing of music playing from speakers mounted nearby. She was fascinated by the display; she knew what a water fountain was but she had never _seen_ one functioning with her own eyes before. Maybe her friends would laugh at her for it, but she thought it was the most interesting thing she had ever seen in her life.

 

As Marice stuck out a hand to touch some of the water that shot up from the sprinklers in the ground, Laiserta watched with a lazy smile on her face. She had paid no attention to her surroundings, as people milled around the fountain and others passed them by, moving on to other stores and restaurants in the outdoor mall. So when a group of rough looking teenage boys walked up to her from behind, Laiserta was completely oblivious.

 

“Hey mama, we need to talk to you,” Laiserta heard a young man say from behind her. Just as she began to turn and face the source of the voice, something slammed into the side of her face, knocking her off balance. Laiserta stumbled, her yellow sunglasses falling to the ground as she quickly realized she had been hit by a shock rod. Her vision was completely scrambled and useless, and the tingling sensation of being hit with a serious electrical shock started trailing from her face down to her neck and shoulders.

 

“Lai!” Marice screamed, having turned around to see what was going on. The five young men surrounding Laiserta immediately looked up at her.

 

“Get her!” one of the boys shouted, and three of them charged toward her in response. Marice jumped down from the lip of the fountain, tackling one of the boys to the ground. The other two reached for her arms, and Marice swung her elbows at them, trying to keep them away. She managed to hit on with a hard left elbow right in the front of his mouth, causing his lip to start bleeding. With one stunned, she pushed up and toward him, rising to her feet while shoving him to the ground.

 

While Marice struggled with the teenagers in black and gold clothing, the remaining two attackers were fighting with Laiserta. Despite her inability to see due to the electric shock she had sustained, Laiserta was no pushover when it came to hand-to-hand combat. The one with the shock rod swung several times and Laiserta was able to deflect his hits at the last second, avoiding a direct hit and another shock. He swung hard one last time, and instead of deflecting the shock rod, she caught it in her hands. The man panicked and tried to yank the rod backwards, but her grip was like a steel vise. Laiserta laughed darkly, and swung the rod around to her right. Her assailant made the mistake of _not_ letting go immediately, and was swung in a wide arc to her right along with the shock rod. Laiserta jerked back toward her chest at the last second, and felt her attacker lose his grip before a loud crash.

 

Laiserta flipped the shock rod around in her hands so she was wielding the weapon properly. “Come at me you little shits,” she said, smirking darkly as she awaited the next attack.

 

“Forget about that one, let's go!” someone yelled from her right, and Laiserta waited for another attack that never came. She heard several pairs of footsteps running away from her, and figured that the idiots who tried to mug her were finally giving up. She stood upright and let her guard down slight, about to call out for Marice when she was interrupted by the voice of her comrade.

 

“Lai! Help!” she heard Marice shout, but she sounded as if she was running away in the same direction the footsteps ran.

 

“Aw, shit!” Laiserta shouted, taking off in the same direction as the group. Her vision was still completely fried, so she was running blind through a mall in Hrimth. She knew the mall, but not well enough to run through it blind. After running after them only about thirty meters, Laiserta tripped over something and fell forward, tumbling over once before stopping face-down on the ground.

 

“Son of a bitch!” Laiserta yelled, slamming her right fist into the ground.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks had enjoyed the night they spent at Laiserta's apartment. He still wasn't used to sleeping on the ship in artificial gravity, so catching a night's rest on a real planet was very nice after several days traveling through space. Early that morning, Laiserta had woken him up to ask if he wanted to go out with her and Marice, and he'd declined. The bed in the guest bedroom, where he slept, was better than anything he'd ever slept on. He wanted to stay in bed a while longer and soak up the rest while he could get it.

 

So late that morning, Trunks was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Across from him sat Armada, working on something on her laptop, while the computer equipment that had occupied the space yesterday had already been torn down and put away. He assumed Armada had taken care of it. Last night when they finally got in, Laiserta explained that there were only two bedrooms in the apartment. She said that she would “take the kid” with her, leaving Trunks to assume that he was to share a bed with Armada. Laiserta had smirked before disappearing, and Trunks was more annoyed at her than the situation. Regardless, he went to bed, but he was fairly certain that Armada never set foot in the guest bedroom. He'd never caught her sleeping, so he assumed that she just stayed up all night.

 

He thought about asking Armada about it when the elevator doors leading into the apartment opened and Laiserta rushed out.

 

“We've got a problem,” she wheezed, completely out of breath and leaning against a wall for support.

 

Trunks and Armada both jumped up from their seats and approached Laiserta, Trunks moving to help her since she appeared to be in distress. He went to take her left arm and help her stand upright but Laiserta shook him off, then stood up on her own.

 

“What happened?” Armada asked, her voice hard. Trunks hadn't missed the fact that Laiserta was _alone,_ either.

 

“Marice and I were attacked while at the mall,” Laiserta started. Both Trunks and Armada gave Laiserta a disbelieving look, and she balked. “Hey, don't give me that shit,” she spat, “they came up out of nowhere and nailed me with a shock rod.” She then proceeded to reach into her coat and pull out the shock rod she'd managed to snatch from them.

 

“So you were blinded,” Trunks said lowly, more to himself than anyone else.

 

“Exactly,” Laiserta replied. “I don't know what happened but I heard them drag Marice away. I tried to chase after them, but you know, the whole 'I can't see' thing got in the way and I didn't get very far,” she finished.

 

“No one knows who Marice is,” Armada began, “so why would anyone kidnap her?”

 

“I don't know,” Laiserta said, still panting. “Drugs? Human trafficking? Pick something,” she added.

 

“Who cares about the reason, we need to find her,” Trunks broke in with steel edge to his voice.

 

A low, beeping melody began playing and the three mercenaries looked at one another in confusion. As the sound continued to play, realization suddenly dawned on Trunks. His eyes widened, as did those of his two comrades as they came to the conclusion that he did. “The computer!” Trunks exclaimed before turning and flying into the guest bedroom, his comrades on his heels.

 

The chat program on the computer Marice used to talk to Deitreich was ringing, waiting for someone to answer. Trunks moved to answer the call but Armada stopped him. “Wait,” she said sharply, drawing his eyes to hers. “They've already seen Laiserta, so let's have her answer it.” Trunks nodded and backed away from the computer, out of the sight of the camera. Laiserta quickly sat down at the desk where the computer was setup and answered the call.

 

The mercenaries were all surprised to see the video feed appear on the other end, revealing a young man, perhaps a teenager, sitting on the other side. His skin was slightly lighter than Laiserta's, and his black hair was cut close to his scalp. “Hi there,” the young man said. “We've got your friend and I'm assuming you want her back.”

 

Trunks and Armada stood off to the side out of view of the camera but close enough to view the screen. His eyes narrowed at the young man on the other side of the screen; whenever he saw him, he was going to make sure he saved a nice punch for that guy's jaw.

 

“Ah, a bunch of street punk Cintas losers, now I get it,” Laiserta replied.

 

The teenager laughed. “If you know that we're Cintas then you oughtta know that we won't hesitate to hurt your friend,” he threatened, still keeping a smirk on his face.

 

Laiserta sighed, knowing that she needed to play along. “What do you want, you little prick?”

 

“Hmm,” he feigned thinking about her question. “One million betas sounds nice, considering you snatched up one of our best customers,” he answered.

 

Laiserta's eyes shot up to her comrades; Trunks could tell she was clearly frustrated. Armada nodded to her, indicating that she should agree to the deal. The Taydran woman turned back to the screen.

 

“Fine,” she replied. “But we need to meet in a public place, to make sure you aren't gonna try to double-cross me.”

 

The teenager smiled wide and sat back in his chair. “Come on, we're Cintas. We're men of honor,” he added, laughing as the words fell from his mouth. “We'll be waiting with your friend on the south side of Rolling Park. You'll drop off the money in cash, in an unmarked bag, in a black trashcan at the corner of Vine and Seventeeth. Walk across the street and take a seat on a bench in the park, and we'll verify the money is legit. When that's done, your friend will walk over to you without our escort. Easy enough, right?”

 

“When?” Laiserta asked flatly.

 

“You've got three hours,” the Cintas gang member replied before ending the video chat.

 

Laiserta sat back in her chair and looked over to Trunks and Armada. “Well?”

 

Armada smirked. “These assholes won't even know what hit them.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

After they made their plans, Laiserta explained that Cintas was a street gang in Hrimth that sometimes worked for more organized criminal enterprises, but more commonly ran their own 'business.' That business included running drugs, guns, and a prostitution ring. They operated in various parts of the city, including the neighborhood where the mercenaries had captured Deitreich. Her knowledge combined with what the gangster had said on the video chat lead the group to believe that Deitreich was Cintas's customer that they were upset about losing. The mercenaries surmised that they must have been seen and followed after snatching their target. Regardless, they had a plan and Cintas wasn't going to get what they wanted.

 

Laiserta walked down the streets of Hrimth, the afternoon sun beating down from above. She carried a black duffle bag in her right hand, the heavy weight nothing in her hands. She wore a dark pair of sunglasses, a cheap replacement for her custom yellow-tinted shades that were stomped on by the Cintas gangsters when they attacked. Laiserta stopped at a light, waiting to cross the street and head down the last block of Vine Street, spotting the trash can at the next corner across from Rolling Park.

 

“I'm a block away now, should be there in about two and a half minutes,” Laiserta said lowly. A teenage Taydran girl turned and looked up at Laiserta, who appeared to be talking to herself. Laiserta smirked back at her, and the girl turned back around.

 

“ _Alpha-One, in position,”_ the voice of Armada sounded in Laiserta's ear over the radio.

 

“ _Beta-One, ready in position,”_ Trunks's voice echoed behind hers.

 

The light changed, and it was Laiserta's turn to cross the street with the rest of the pedestrians on the southeast corner of Vine Street. Once she had crossed the street and started walking toward the trashcan specified by Cintas, she smirked to herself. “They've got two guys on Marice in a tunnel closest to spider-head, but at least six more assholes near the specified bench where I'm headed. Then there's four behind a building on this block, and two inside the cafe across the street to the west,” she finished, giving away all of Cintas's positions. They were easy enough for her to discern from all other bodies wandering around, since they dressed in black and gold with a particular style of clothing. She almost laughed to herself; this was going to be too easy.

 

Laiserta casually strolled up the black metal trashcan, dropped the black duffle bag she was carrying in it, and immediately crossed the street over into the park. She turned back slightly as she walked to see the two Cintas gang members in the cafe on the other side of Vine walk out and prepare to cross the street. “Two guys are going to pick up the bag, you've got about forty seconds,” Laiserta said, continuing to the bench as if everything was fine.

 

Several meters away, Trunks was sitting on a bench along one of the concrete pathways in the park, near a number of other people. He pretended to be engrossed in a throwaway news tablet he'd purchased before walking into the park. He could see several people in dark clothing walking his way from the corner of his eye, but made no move to look at them until they had passed by. His eyes looked up from the tablet once their backs were to him, and he saw four young men in black and gold clothing, like Laiserta had described.

 

Trunks rose from his seat and slowly followed behind the gangsters, holding the tablet in his right hand down at his side as he walked. He kept his distance from the men in front of him, and pretended to look around at the park scenery, especially the trees above. They began to head downhill, toward the bench where Laiserta was going to have a seat. In the distance, he noticed the remaining two Cintas members approaching the first four from the east. Trunks knew he only had about twenty more seconds before Cintas opened the duffle bag to learn the drop was a ruse.

 

The Earthling walked faster, taking longer strides to catch up to the gangsters in front of him. When the other two joined them, the criminals were busy talking to one another and Trunks knew he had his chance to strike. Before any of them had a clue what hit them, Trunks used a burst of ki to rush forward and strike each of them once at the base of the neck, knocking them unconscious. Trunks glanced around; no one had noticed him _yet,_ but he needed to get away from the pile of bodies at his feet.

 

“They've opened the bag,” Laiserta updated her comrades as she watched the two gangsters rifle through the duffle bag they had retrieved from the trash. She watched as their expressions changed, and one of them whistled loudly. “They know,” Laiserta added sternly, standing up from where she had been sitting on the bench. The two gangsters who were sent to pick up the money, as well as the remaining four hiding behind a building on that same block then charged out, sprinting across the street and straight for Laiserta. She smiled darkly; she was ready for them.

 

A fair distance away to the north in the park, inside a dark tunnel, two men held on to Marice, who had her wrists bound together behind her back. A phone rang out, and one of the men pulled the small phone from his pocket to answer it. “Yeah?” he asked, followed by a long pause. He looked to his ally and then Marice, before grimacing. “Shit!” he shouted, slamming the phone shut. Before he had a chance to shove it in his pocket, he flew forward, rolling a few times across the pavement before coming to stop.

 

Marice turned around just in time to see Armada slam a hard elbow into the center of the remaining Cintas guard, knocking the air out of his lungs. She then slammed her forearm against his face, using the arm-guard of her armor as a weapon. The gangster was also sent flying backward, landing on his back as blood and saliva trailed from his mouth. Something else hit the ground, and Marice's attention was drawn to the sound. She looked as a bloody tooth fell down next to the gangster.

 

Armada grabbed Marice's restraints and ripped them off of her with no fanfare. “I've got Marice,” Armada said to herself, and the Euphorian teen eyed her warily, not understanding why the mercenary was talking to herself.

 

“Good,” Laiserta replied as the six Cintas gangsters charged at her, “that means I don't need to hold back.”

 

Two of the gangsters pulled pistols from their long shorts, while the rest brandished melee weapons. Laiserta stood still as they approached, unmoving while she waited for the right moment. As soon as they were within her reach, she quickly yanked out a shock rod from her black trench coat, immediately swinging for the first two enemies within her reach.

 

She nailed them across their faces, simultaneously pressing the button to deliver a significant shock. They dropped to the ground, groaning in pain. The two men with pistols stood back, aiming their weapons at her. Laiserta ignored them, knowing they wouldn't fire unless they absolutely had to, because they didn't want Hrimth police to descend upon them like a swarm. She focused instead on taking out the last two losers who charged at her.

 

One swung with another shock rod, but his attack was wild and Laiserta easily ducked it. His momentum carried him past her, and Laiserta kicked him in the back, knocking him face first into the ground. The second enemy tried to swing with brass knuckles on his right hand, but she caught his fist in her left hand. Before he could react, she shoved the shock rod into his gut, delivering a sustained electrical shock. The young man's body quivered for several seconds until she stopped, at which point Laiserta smacked him in the face with the shock rod, knocking him to the ground off to her right.

 

The last two gangsters raised their pistols and prepared to fire. Laiserta was ready to draw her own if they did, but neither had to chance to pull the trigger. They both fell forward, eyes rolling into the back of their heads. Trunks stood behind them and watched as they collapsed. His eyes shot up to Laiserta's and he smiled.

 

“Thanks wonder boy,” Laiserta said calmly, standing upright. She noticed one gang member struggling to get to his feet, the one that she had kicked in the back. Just as he leaped to his feet, Laiserta swung the shock rod, slamming it into his jaw with a nasty crunch. “You like how that feels, asshole?!” Laiserta shouted, still clearly angered by their use of a shock rod on her earlier that day. “Bunch of little pricks,” she said lowly, spitting on the ground near their downed enemies.

 

At that moment, Armada and Marice came running downhill, down the path from the direction Trunks had originally come. “Let's get out of here,” Armada ordered, and everyone fell into step behind her.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Everything was _so good!_ ” Marice nearly shouted in a sing-song voice, turning around to look at the three people walking behind her.

 

Laiserta smirked. “Of course it was; Taydran food is the best in the universe,” she added, her words dripping with pride.

 

The three mercenaries and their temporary charge walked through downtown Hrimth, headed back to Laiserta's apartment. The sun was just starting to set as they left the restaurant after dinner. Laiserta was adamant that for their last night in Taydr, she should get to choose where they ate. Nobody really disagreed, and so she made her selection, graciously paying for everyone.

 

Marice skipped a few steps ahead and stopped, turning to face her friends again, a curious look on her face.

 

“What's up?” Trunks asked, as Marice appeared to be thinking hard about something.

 

“Hey Lai,” the red-haired teen looked up at the much taller Taydran woman. “What happened to all of the stuff we bought this morning?”

 

The group was silent for a long moment, Trunks and Armada confused as to what Marice was talking about. “Aw, _son of a bitch!_ ” Laiserta cursed, closing her eyes in frustration. She looked back to Marice, her face showing disappointment very clearly. “I forgot to pick up our stuff after you were taken,” she explained, seemingly more annoyed at herself than anyone else.

 

“Oh,” Marice said, her face falling. Clearly she had been excited about their shopping spree, and was now heartbroken that they had lost their belongings.

 

The group was silent a moment before Trunks spoke up. “Why don't you just go back to the same stores and repurchase what you'd already bought?” he asked, like it was the most obvious question in the world.

 

Marice's fast instantly lit up. “Lai, can we?!” she nearly begged, holding her hands together in front of her.

 

“Sure kid,” Laiserta smiled. “Everything should still be open for a few hours.”

 

Marice beamed, a wide smile growing across her face. She suddenly turned to look at Armada. “This time you're coming with us!” she shouted excitedly.

 

“What?” Armada blinked in confusion, but before she realized it Marice had grabbed onto her right arm and started tugging her forward. The girl's strength was beyond that of an average person, and Armada wasn't ready for it, so she stumbled forward a few steps.

 

“Laiserta bought me all these cool clothes! And she said that you need something too because your fashion sense is awful, so you should come with us!” Marice continued, still pulling Armada forward.

 

“Come on spider-head,” Laiserta slapped her right hand on Armada's back, between her shoulders. “This'll be _fun_ ,” she added, showing off her trademarked devious smile.

 

Armada tried to protest but with one woman on each side of her, she was pressed forward, Marice talking over her every time she tried to speak. Trunks walked slowly behind the three women, laughing as the scene unfolded before him. He knew Armada was more than strong and fast enough to escape Laiserta and Marice, but for some reason she wasn't doing it. Whatever that reason was didn't much matter to him, he just wanted to keep up to watch Armada's awkward glances at her comrades and laugh at her misfortune.

 

 

-+-

 

 

That's it! Thanks for reading everyone. Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts – good, bad, or ugly, I'll take them all. :]

 

If you are looking for anything else to read, I have a few recommendations:

 

Check out the newly posted Gohan/Videl fanfic, “To See You Again” by the lovely Lilly-sama: <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11327767/1/To-See-You-Again> Set in the Future Timeline it is a different look at a Videl and Gohan relationship while living under the terror of the androids.

 

“Starting Over Again” by balthezarian <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5535752/1/Starting-Over-Again> is great. She's a very talented writer and her DBZ fics are spectacular, but I really love this one especially. It's a very realistic look at the Son family and how they react to and survive hardship. A bit of a tearjerker at points but a really wonderful story.

 

“Unconventional Love: Book I” by Mallie-3 is amazing: <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8782984/1/Unconventional-Love-Book-I> It's a Bulma/Vegeta fanfic AU setting where Bulma is a slave in the Saiyan empire. Yes that idea has been done, but this fanfic executes it really well, and Mallie does a wonderful job of building not just a world, but a whole society. And the B/V is very well developed, too.

 

“Dragonball OT” by Raos is a really creative and great story: <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10733290/1/Dragonball-OT> It explores what would have happened to the version of Trunks who was killed by Cell when Cell stole the time machine to flee to the past. It is a Mirai Trunks/Android 18 fanfic, which I am normally not a fan of, but the author has taken great care to develop their relationship at a realistic pace. The story needs some polish and I am helping the author with that. There are so few fanfics about Mirai Trunks and this one has some really original ideas, so I recommend it if you are a Mirai Trunks fan.

 

So check out these authors and give them some love! You can tell them I sent you, hahaha. :]

 

Silvia


	21. Mission 13:  Double or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission at a casino on Bmyhad introduces some serious class to our favorite motley crew, whether they like it or not.

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Just one day after leaving Taydr, Trunks was in his room, sitting in his bed with his legs crossed in front of him, reading on his laptop. He'd found an obituary posted online for Quarry, and his face was somber as he read it. Quarry's death still hurt, and Trunks hadn't forgotten about his murderer either. But the rage had burned itself out, and he was left feeling empty and saturated in guilt. And Q's death reminded him of why he needed to stay away from the lab in Ute; why he needed to stay away from Murtole and Devan, lest they suffer the same fate.

 

Trunks sighed heavily, closing the obituary and going back to what he was originally reading about. Less than a minute passed when there was a knock at the door to his room. He didn't sense anyone at the door, and immediately knew it was Laiserta. “Come in,” Trunks called from where he sat, and she let herself in, the door sliding shut behind her.

 

“Hey, you got a minute to talk?” Laiserta asked. She was carrying a tablet in her hands, but was otherwise disarmed. She was wearing the black form-fitting suit that she always wore, but she wasn't wearing her jacket, and her pistols and their holsters were missing. Since her yellow sunglasses had been broken, she had nothing on her face, revealing her red eyes, unobstructed. She looked a lot less intimidating so 'dressed down.'

 

“Sure,” Trunks replied, shutting his laptop and setting it aside. He turned and set his feet on the floor, leaving a space on his bed for Laiserta to sit down.

 

She walked over to him but chose not to sit. “Remember how you asked me to check out anything I could find on Valencia?” Trunks's eyes widened slightly at her question, and she didn't wait for a reply from him. “Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news is, my friend found a Republican military report on what appears to be the last confrontation the Republic had with Valencia,” she said, holding out her tablet to him.

 

Trunks took the tablet from her hand and looked at the file she had pulled up on it. “The bad news is,” Laiserta continued as Trunks skimmed the information, “the file was seriously corrupted. He did some work to try and recover it, but was only able to get the report's summary and a few images attached to the report,” she finished.

 

“This is great Lai, thank you,” Trunks said and glanced up at her briefly before returning to reading. The summary was only nineteen pages long, but still had some useful information in it.

 

“Sure thing,” she answered. “I read through everything already, and it was interesting stuff, but I couldn't figure out why you cared about it,” she explained. “Until I saw one of the images my friend was able to recover.”

 

Trunks's eyes shot back up to Laiserta. Saying nothing, she leaned over and opened up the file browser on her system, selecting a group of images. “First, none of these meant much,” she said, scrolling past a few images quickly, “until I found this one.” Before she opened the file, she made eye contact with Trunks. “According to that report, when the Republic destroyed Valencia, they only managed to take one enemy combatant alive.”

 

That last bit of information surprised Trunks. If what Dax had said was true, there were at least _two_ surviving members of Valencia, not just one. Regardless, he unknowingly held his breath as Laiserta opened the file. The image that appeared on the screen surprised Trunks more than he expected.

 

“ _Kami_ ,” Trunks muttered under his breath. Staring back at him was a mugshot of _Armada_ , only showing her head, neck and the top of her shoulders. She was wearing a thick, heavy gray armor with a gray bodysuit underneath that covered her neck. She was a mess; her armor was covered in grime, and some of her bangs stuck to her face in what he guessed was dried blood, sweat, and dirt. He almost wouldn't have recognized her if it wasn't for her eyes staring at him from the screen—the same hard, dark blue eyes that he was familiar with.

 

Despite her condition in the photo, something nagged at the back of Trunks's mind as he studied the picture. Suddenly it hit him, and he couldn't help but speaking aloud the revelation. “She's young,” he said in amazement, finally realizing that she looked much younger than she did now. _Almost like..._ Trunks thought, but Laiserta interrupted him.

 

“Yeah,” Laiserta affirmed his observation. “Looks like she's maybe in her late teens, but definitely not an adult yet,” she added.

 

Several pieces of information suddenly didn't make sense in Trunks's brain. He glanced up to Laiserta, “What's the date on this file?”

 

“That's interesting too,” Laiserta replied. She touched the tablet, opening up the report summary again. “According to the report, this all happened almost nine years ago in the northern Frontier of the Republic,” she said, pointing to a time-stamp on the bottom of each page of the report. “The file system time-stamp indicates that this file was created just five years ago, which is likely when the file was copied to another location and the meta data was reset, according to my friend,” she explained.

 

“If you take the date in the file, and compare it to what spider-head recently said about how old she is,” Laiserta trailed off.

 

“She would have been seventeen when this photo was taken,” Trunks replied, still staring at the tablet's screen. He'd read the date, and compared it in his head with the current date in RST. Suddenly things that he _thought_ he knew were in flux. He was so sure that Armada was lying about her age, but this photo and report confirmed what she had said. He briefly wondered if she could have planted the file.

 

“How did your friend get this?” Trunks asked, his gaze guarded as he moved to look up at her.

 

“He found it in a database file from an old hack on a Republican military data center, where the contents of the data center were uploaded to the open web,” Laiserta answered. “It's a relatively well-known hack from a few years ago, which is why my friend checked there first. Since this particular file was corrupted, the plain text of the file wasn't floating around online. He had to do some recovery to get this much from what he found. Said he only found it because there was meta-data on the file in a database table, which included a few tags for someone to search, and 'Valencia' was one of those tags.”

 

Trunks was quiet a moment as he thought over what she said. It made sense as to why he had turned up nothing searching on the open net, if this was buried in a partially corrupted database. So far everything sounded legitimate, and he knew Armada didn't have the tech skills to plant something like this. Besides, why would she? Just to support a lie about her age? She wasn't that vain, and if this file was that hard to find then it was highly unlikely that anyone would have found it anyway, which made it useless for that purpose.

 

“Anyway, I'm going to bed,” Laiserta spoke, dragging Trunks from his thoughts. “Keep my tablet for now, you can read through everything and copy the file to your own storage. Just don't mention this to Armada, because I don't feel like starting a fight with her.”

 

Trunks nodded, and Laiserta turned and left. He knew she was serious when she spoke because she actually said ' _Armada_ ' and not 'spider-head' like she normally did. Regardless, he knew he wasn't ready to confront Armada with this information. He didn't know enough yet, and she would probably shut down his attempts to learn more.

 

As he continued to read through the report summary, Trunks's thoughts drifted. Conversations, things he'd read, words that had been said all started to coalesce into an idea, into one fixed point. _'Fourteen years of daily training in between operations.' 'Hah, she said we served in the military together. Yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it.' '...if there was a place in this universe for old soldiers like me, but there isn't.' 'Never lived in the place I was born.'_ Suddenly everything became clear, and Trunks understood what it was that his mind was trying to piece together.

 

“She was a child soldier,” he said lowly to himself, a wave of sadness coming down to rest onto his shoulders. _And Dax was, too,_ Trunks thought, guilt bubbling up again as thoughts of Dax inevitably brought with them thoughts of Q.

 

But he thought more about his comrade, his partner now in their pact to destroy Rieve. Now understanding more about where Armada came from, things started to make a lot more sense to Trunks. From what his mother had told him, his father was a child soldier under Frieza, a slave used merely to kill in service of the Colds. His father, from the time he spent with him in the past, was a bit more maladjusted and seemed to thrive on violence. Armada was not the same; she didn't shy away from a fight and she certainly had anger issues, but her approach was more methodical, more tactical. Perhaps that was the difference between being a slave to Frieza and being a slave to Valencia, whatever exactly that meant.

 

Trunks continued reading the report, all the while feeling that the wind had left his sails when it came to his opinion of his blonde-haired shipmate. Maybe she wasn't as terrible as he'd thought.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 13: Double or Nothing

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Hello?” Alten Rema answered his phone, holding it up to his right ear with his shoulder while he scribbled away on a tablet before handing it off to a nurse.

 

“ _Rema,”_ the voice on the other end spat flatly.

 

“Lovely to hear from you too,” Rema said sarcastically with a smirk. He pulled the phone away from his mouth slightly as he nodded to one of the nurses. “Make sure my patient in 1488 gets another blood test before shift change,” he said quickly, the nurse nodding to acknowledge his request. Bringing the phone back to his mouth, Rema moved over to the counter at the nurse's station to go over the last of his patients' charts before leaving for the day. “So what can I do for you today?” Rema asked, only halfway paying attention as he read through his charts on the tablet on the counter in front of him.

 

“ _You know why I'm calling,”_ the angry voice bit out on the other end. He could almost see her glowering in his mind's eye, and the doctor laughed.

 

“No, I really don't, and I'm very busy, so please don't waste my time playing games,” Rema replied, trying to hide the laughter in his voice, but certain that he'd failed miserably.

 

“ _You haven't sent Marice's medical records over,”_ Armada answered him tersely.

 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Rema continued flipping through his patients' charts and signing off as he spoke to the mercenary over the phone. “Someone misplaced Marice's file and we haven't been able to find it,” he replied simply.

 

“ _You keep electronic records.”_

 

“What I meant to say was, there was an issue with the database where patient records are stored and her file was corrupted,” Rema corrected himself, smirking as he did so. “The infrastructure team is having a hell of a time trying to recover it.”

 

“ _Rema,”_ she ground out, this time sounding particularly angry.

 

The doctor outright laughed in the phone. “I know you can't dump her off at a refugee facility without medical records, it's okay,” he added.

 

“ _Don't screw with me,”_ she started but he cut her off.

 

“Or what?” Rema laughed. “Go ahead and threaten me, we both know your bark is worse than your bite.” He heard something on the other end but kept talking regardless. “I think it's nice that you're now making friends, and you should keep it up,” he finished, laughing.

 

“ _You rat bastard!”_ she spat, seething on the other end of the line.

 

“Careful now,” Rema laughed, “you keep that up and my wife might think you're flirting with me.” He paused, waiting for her to say something but Armada stayed silent. “Well, I've gotta go, more lives to save and all,” he added, quickly hanging up his phone. Rema looked down at the phone in his hand and smirked. She was simply too much fun to torture.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Shortly after landing in Ute, Armada gathered her comrades together to debrief them on a new job. Marice stood in the back of the bridge and watched as Armada went through the data on the mission with Trunks and Laiserta.

 

“This is retired Tyrian general Evert Ackermann,” Armada said as the image of an elderly man with white hair appeared on screen. “Apparently in his retirement he's been working as a freelance military consultant.”

 

“And I'm going to guess that Tyron doesn't like that,” Laiserta said, her arms crossed over her chest.

 

“Not exactly,” Armada replied. “The contract is for us to stop General Ackermann from being assassinated by a company who can't seem to hire him. They don't want their competitors to get any advantages by consulting with him,” she finished.

 

“That's not what I expected,” Trunks joined in, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

 

“Me neither,” Laiserta added. “So when and where are we supposed to rescue this old geezer?” she asked bluntly.

 

“He's scheduled to be in Temelt-Ran four days from now to meet a new client at a casino on the north end of the city,” Armada explained, changing the display to show the information the client had given her. “According to the group that's hired us, they have it on good authority that the assassination attempt will happen then. They want us to stop it and get the general out, unharmed.” Armada turned in her chair to look at her two comrades standing behind her.

 

“Why do I have a feeling this isn't as simple as it sounds?” Trunks asked warily, looking at Armada.

 

She stood from her seat. “It's not,” she answered flatly. “The building is surrounded by a Minovsky field and getting weapons past security is going to be difficult,” she added.

 

“So this is going to require a lot of planning,” Trunks summarized their situation.

 

Armada nodded. “We're still waiting on some additional details about the casino to be sent over by the company that contracted us,” she explained. “So hopefully they send everything over soon, because we don't have much time to prepare.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

After getting a cursory plan put together, the mercenaries waited to receive more detailed blueprints of the casino in Ute from their contractor. Then they would be able to pin down their movements with much more precision. Until that happened, there wasn't much to do for the next few days but wait. And Trunks found that he hated waiting. So he trained down in the cargo bay, with Armada, and they had moved onto weapons training. He watched her closely as she performed the move again, still slow enough for him to follow her footsteps as well as how she moved her arms with the long staff in her hands.

 

“Got it?” she asked when she had finished moving. He nodded, and she tossed the long wooden staff to him. “Okay, your turn. But I'm going to try and defend,” she added, before settling back into a defensive stance.

 

Trunks took the staff and settled into the same stance she had shown him. He had his right hand wrapped around the center of the staff, which was about five feet long. With the staff held out from his body to his right, and his left hand up toward his chest to provide a defense, he prepared to move. He stared at his opponent for a long moment, his blue eyes boring into the darker blue of hers.

 

It was supposed to be a simple maneuver. Step forward with his left foot while bringing the staff up and forward, grab the bottom of the staff with his left hand, then step forward again with his right foot and slam the staff down. His execution was flawless, but as Trunks reached up with the staff, something tipped the higher end and threw him off. Armada noticed he was late with the second step, but didn't pull her punch.

 

Armada ducked slightly before hitting Trunks in the gut with a hard upper-cut. It was enough to stun him so that she could sweep his feet out from underneath of him, knocking him backward onto the floor. She stared at him curiously, and he was quick to respond.

 

“Okay, that wasn't fair,” Trunks huffed from where he sat on the cold metal floor. Despite the hit he had taken, he never dropped the staff from his right hand. “The ceiling got in the way,” he explained and pointed up at the exposed metal rafters with the end of the staff in his hand.

 

Armada looked up at the ceiling, then back down at Trunks. “Let me see,” she said, holding her hand out to him. He interpreted her gesture correctly, and tossed the wooden staff to her. She held it in both hands for a moment before switching it to her right hand only, halfway down the weapon. She stood upright and stretched her arm out completely, the staff several inches shy of hitting the ceiling. She glanced over at Trunks, who had taken the time to get up off of the floor, and a thought occurred to her.

 

Moving her right hand down on the staff five inches to offset for Trunks's taller height, she held it up again. This time it hit the edge of one of the metal rafters easily. “You're right,” she said while still looking up. She brought her arm down and looked at Trunks.

 

“Yeah, I know that,” he replied, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead.

 

Armada's gaze turned inward for a moment as she thought. Her eyes darted back up to his. “We're gonna need more space,” she finally said.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Marice sat up in bed and rubbed at her eyes; she still wasn't on a sleep schedule with everyone else on the ship. She yawned and stretched before finally stepping out of bed. She had only taken a nap and hadn't bothered to change her clothes, so she only needed to wander over to the bathroom and brush out her hair before leaving the room she shared with Laiserta.

 

After a quick walk through the bridge and lounge to reach the galley for some water, Marice realized she hadn't seen anyone. She stepped into the lounge and glanced around. “Hello?” she said, her voice sounding much louder in the quietness of the docked and empty ship. She waited a moment for a response, but heard nothing other than the low hum of the ship's life support systems.

 

She walked back through the bridge toward her room, but stopped in the hallway. Thinking she heard something, she held her breath to listen. After hearing what sounded like the muffled sounds of someone talking, she turned in the direction of the dull sound and found herself staring at the door leading out of the ship.

 

Marice opened the door and looked into the hangar. She saw Laiserta standing on a lower part of the catwalk leading down to the ground. Marice walked down the path with her water bottle in hand, stopping beside her roommate who was leaned over on the catwalk railing, her weight supported on her forearms which were crossed and sitting on the ledge.

 

Before Marice said anything to Laiserta, she heard what sounded like fighting. Following the direction of the sound, she looked down to see her other two shipmates on the ground of the hangar, fighting each other. “What's going on?” Marice immediately asked, worried at what she was watching.

 

“Oh they're just practicing,” Laiserta replied lamely. “Well, spider-head's supposed to be teaching wonder boy or something,” she added, her tone indicating that she was unimpressed.

 

“Oh,” Marice said, blinking at Laiserta before turning her attention down below once more. She watched in silence as Armada and Trunks fought, and it didn't take long for her to catch on to what Laiserta had said. They would frequently stop and start, and Armada would make a few comments about what Trunks had done. Eventually he gave the staff he was using back to her, and she would show him something else. After demonstrating the move, she expected him to use it successfully against her. Overall, he was doing pretty well in Marice's opinion.

 

Marice watched, mesmerized by their movements and dedication to the process. She didn't have much formal martial arts training, sadly. Her uncle taught her how to fight with the sai before he died from illness, but the total time he spent training her was less than a year. She had wanted to learn more, but she couldn't find anyone else who had anything to teach her. She settled for reading his old books and trying to learn the moves described within them. It wasn't much, but it was better than being left with nothing, she supposed.

 

“Teach me how to fight!”

 

It didn't take long for emotion to take over, and before Marice knew what she was doing, she had already shouted down at her comrades, causing them to stop in their tracks and look up at her like she had lost her mind. Marice gasped and clasped both of her hands over her mouth. She looked to her right, and even Laiserta had stood up and regarded her a confused visage.

 

A few moments later, all four souls in the hangar were standing on the floor, together, in the makeshift ring that Trunks and Armada were using to train. Three mercenaries glanced at each other in silence, while one young refugee's eyes fell to the floor and her face burned red in embarrassment.

 

“Well come on kid,” Laiserta said and nudged Marice with her elbow, “don't clam up now.”

 

The young Euphorian swallowed hard before looking back up at Trunks and Armada. “I want to learn to fight like you guys,” she began. “Please teach me,” she said, much more lowly than her outburst earlier.

 

Armada stared at Marice with the same hard gaze as always, so Trunks decided to take charge of the conversation. “Marice, don't you know how to use your sai?” Trunks asked. “Someone taught you that much, right?” He recognized those weapons, even if they had a different heritage in the wider universe they appeared to have the same purpose from the way she had carried them.

 

Marice nodded. “My uncle taught me when I was really little, but he died. I studied some of his books but nobody else knew anything about it to teach me,” she finished. She waited a moment before adding, “I want to be strong, and be able to fight like you.”

 

Trunks's eyes widened at bit at that. Did she mean that she wanted to learn to use ki? Before he had a chance to ask her, Armada cut in.

 

“Euphorians evolved in a natural Minovsky field,” she began flatly. “Because of that, you may never be able to manipulate energy like Trunks and I do.”

 

“We don't know that,” Trunks broke in curtly, glancing at Armada and glaring at her briefly. He turned back to Marice and smiled. “Marice, if you want to learn martial arts, I'd be happy to teach you.”

 

At that, Marice's face lit up and she clenched her hands into fists in front of her chest. “Thank you!” she nearly shouted, smiling broadly in excitement.

 

“So I hate to be a downer,” Laiserta finally spoke, shifting her weight on her feet and settling her right hand against her hip. “But what's the point in teaching the kid if she's leaving soon?” she asked, looking at Trunks.

 

“That doesn't matter,” Trunks answered plainly. “If she wants to learn, then I'll teach her, no matter how much time we have,” he finished.

 

“She's not going anywhere any time soon,” Armada said with an irritated sigh. Everyone's heads snapped to look at her.

 

“What are you talking about?” Trunks asked earnestly. “I thought we were going to take Marice to a refugee camp...?” he trailed off, unsure about what his comrade had said.

 

Armada's face fell into a scowl. “That bastard doctor won't give me her medical records,” she explained.

 

“ _Hah!_ ” Laiserta laughed loudly before continuing to snicker under her breath. “Now _that's_ funny!”

 

Trunks blinked in shock. “He won't give them to you? Why not?” he asked, clearly surprised by what she had said.

 

“I don't know,” Armada ground out. “He thinks he's funny, I guess,” she added bitterly.

 

“So I'm staying with you guys?” Marice asked, her voice hopeful.

 

“For now, yes—” Armada started but stopped cold when Marice closed the distance between them and pulled her into a hug. Armada immediately tensed up and looked down at Marice with a mixture of shock and disgust on her face.

 

The gesture only last a second before Armada pulled her right arm free and shoved Marice away from her, the teenager falling back a step. “Thank you!” she exclaimed jubilantly, her light blue eyes shining with gratitude despite being pushed away harshly. Seeing the uncomfortable look on Armada's face, Marice backed up another step, blushing slightly.

 

“Well that was disgustingly cute,” Laiserta quipped, and Trunks couldn't help but a crack a smile at her remark.

 

Everyone was quiet for a moment, but Marice rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, looking at the three mercenaries around her. Her gaze finally settled on Trunks and she spoke. “So when do we start?” she asked, trying to keep some of the excitement out of her voice but failing miserably.

 

Trunks spared a glance at Armada, who still seemed to be annoyed. He then turned his attention back to Marice and smiled genuinely at her. “We can start today if you want. I don't know if you'll be able to learn to use your ki, but that will come later if it does happen,” he answered her.

 

“My what?” Marice asked, her eyebrows raising up.

 

“Your energy,” Trunks amended. “Where I come from, we call it ' _ki_ ,' but it's the same type of energy that Armada uses, for example,” he finished, sparing another glance at the mercenary he had mentioned.

 

Marice stared at Trunks in concern for a moment, before fidgeting and turning her attention to Armada once more. “Why do you think I'll never be able to use ki?” she asked, her face clearly displaying her disappointment.

 

Armada didn't miss the stern glare that Trunks shot her before she answered Marice's question. It was an unspoken threat from him for her to temper her answer to the young Euphorian. But Armada wasn't one to pull punches, and she wouldn't do for Marice either. “Because you come from a species of people that evolved inside of a natural Minovsky field, the chances of you learning to manipulate an energy that your people could never manipulate in their history are very low,” she answered flatly.

 

“I don't understand,” Marice replied, shaking her head. “What's a... Minovsky field?” she repeated the words slowly, unsure as they rolled off of her tongue.

 

“A special field that blocks the type of energy those two use,” Laiserta cut in, answering Marice's question while nodding toward Trunks and Armada. “We're standing in one right now,” Laiserta added, pointing to the small cylinder sitting on the floor a few feet away from where the group stood.

 

Marice immediately walked over to the small device and bent down to pick it up. Holding it in her hands, she turned to face her comrades. “This is it?” she asked, staring at the device intensely, as if she could divine knowledge through her gaze alone.

 

“That's a Minovsky generator,” Armada cut in, “it's a device that generates a Minovsky field.”

 

Looking more confused than ever, Marice shook her head again. “But... what _is_ it?” she repeated, holding up the generator in her hand.

 

Realization hit Trunks, and he understood what she was asking. “How does it work?” he asked, and Armada and Laiserta both turned to look at him. “The Minovsky field,” he clarified. Armada had never really explained it to him, either, so now seemed like as good a time as any.

 

“Don't look at me,” Laiserta shrugged. “I don't care how the damn thing works, just that it helps me take out people like you,” she said to Trunks. “No offense,” she tacked on at the end.

 

“I'm not a physicist,” Armada began, “so I can't get too technical, but I know the basics of how it works.

 

“The energy that people like Trunks and I can control has a certain frequency and wavelength that is the same no matter who the person is that is manipulating it. A Minovsky particle is a type of energy particle that has the exact opposite wavelength and frequency of life energy. When the two types of particles meet, they cancel each other out. A Minovsky field is simply an area flooded with Minovsky particles, so that someone like myself is unable to manipulate life energy inside or outside of my body. It doesn't reduce the latent energy I can control, or make me weak from being exposed to Minovsky particles. The effect only works when I'm standing in a Minovsky field.”

 

Armada stepped forward and took the Minovsky generator from Marice's hands. Marice watched in awe as Armada powered the device down, and then generated a small ball of white energy in the air just above the palm of her right hand. After a few brief moments of the display, Armada released her energy and it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

 

“Oh wow,” Marice muttered under her breath, still staring in shock at Armada.

 

Trunks shook his head. “That doesn't make sense to me,” he started. “Matter and energy are never created or destroyed, so shouldn't the two particles release their energy in some other form, like light or heat?” he asked. Armada's short explanation didn't exactly fit with what his mother had taught him about physics, and he trusted his mother, a brilliant physicist in her own right, to know what she was talking about.

 

“I don't know,” Armada answered flatly with a slight scowl. “Study it on your own time if you want more details, but I've explained it to the best of my knowledge.” Carrying the Minovsky generator with her, Armada floated up toward the ship. "I think that's enough for now," she said, looking down at Trunks. "We'll continue tomorrow," she added before disappearing inside the ship.

 

Marice made a noise like a sigh, and Trunks turned to look at her. She shifted awkwardly on her feet, gazing up at Trunks with a nervous smile. "So, um, when do you want to... start training?" she asked, wringing her hands in front of her.

 

Trunks smiled at her. “Well,” he began, and Marice's face fell at his tone. “I've never had a student before. Let me think of a training plan for you, and we can start tomorrow. Is that okay?” he asked kindly.

 

"Sure," Marice replied, relieved at his explanation.

 

"All right," Laiserta broke in while throwing an arm around Marice's shoulders, "now that's all settled, let's grab something to eat. I'm starving."

 

 

-+-

 

 

Later that evening, after Laiserta and Marice had retired to their room while bickering the whole way, Trunks had ventured down into the belly of the ship where his comrade was working in the engine room. There was an eerie stillness to the room, as she had shut down almost all systems to perform some maintenance. Initially annoyed at his presence, Armada gave up and showed him how to complete routine maintenance tasks – checking for any damaged or weakened components, cleaning out exhaust ports, and how to run the on-board system diagnostics for each engine.

 

Trunks finished with his tasks on the last engine assigned to him, and kicked off the program to run the diagnostics. While waiting for it to finish, he turned to his comrade who was kneeling at the other half of the final pair of engines they were addressing for the evening. Armada was cleaning out the exhaust port, focused on her task as she scrubbed.

 

“I was honestly pretty surprised that you said Marice is staying with us,” Trunks finally spoke. He truly _was_ surprised, and he wanted to know why she would let the young Euphorian stay with them. It seemed completely out of character for her. 

 

Armada kept scrubbing, seemingly ignoring Trunks for a moment. “I didn't have a choice,” she replied flatly, still focused on her work.

 

Without thinking, Trunks raised an eyebrow. He didn't expect that explanation, either. “You didn't have a choice?” he echoed. He opened his mouth to keep speaking, but Armada rose from her knees and interrupted him.

 

“I accepted her onto the ship. She's my responsibility now,” Armada continued. “I can't just dump her off somewhere. She doesn't know how to survive outside of Euphoria,” she paused for a moment before looking pointedly at Trunks. “I thought you of all people would understand that.”

 

“No, I get it,” Trunks quickly replied. “And I agree with you. I just didn't think that you...” he trailed off, trying to find the right words.

 

“Would take responsibility for my actions?” Armada asked. Her voice had a slight bite to it, but her eyes didn't match the tone.

 

“Something like that,” Trunks supplied with a slight shrug. After an awkward moment of silence, Trunks spoke. “But... I'm glad you did,” he said with a smile.

 

Armada's eyebrows came together in the center, signaling that she felt deep concern about something. “Trunks, I need your help,” she said seriously, never breaking eye contact. His eyes widened a bit in surprise, and she continued before he could say anything. “I need you to keep Marice from getting involved in all of this,” she explained. “Laiserta is one thing, she's a mercenary like me so she knows what she's getting into. But Marice... she shouldn't learn to live this life.” Her gaze fell away from his for a brief moment before returning. “You can teach her to defend herself, but don't let her get involved,” Armada finished, her voice resolute.

 

For the second time that day, Trunks completely agreed with Armada. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I can do that.”

 

Armada turned around and started the diagnostics on the last engine. “Diagnostics reports will all upload to the bridge so can check them later,” she said briskly before lifting her feet from the ground and floating past Trunks, toward the ladder leading upstairs.

 

Trunks watched her leave, and when she was out of sight he smiled to himself. She cared about Marice's well being. He was glad to know that perhaps Armada wasn't all hard edges and angry punches.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Excitement buzzed in the air as night fell over the city of Temelt-Ran, and Trunks could feel it just as well as anyone. The last time he had visited this Bmyhadian city had been under _very_ different circumstances, to put it lightly. This time, however, he stood with his right arm linked in Laiserta's left as they waited to enter _Lind's Hammer_ , a brightly lit high-end hotel and casino.

 

“This place looks nice,” Laiserta said, turning to face Trunks. “I'll have to come back here when this is over,” she said with a smirk.

 

“ _Focus on the mission at hand,”_ Armada's voice replied flatly over the radio in Trunks's left ear. He could see her standing about twelve spots ahead of them in the line, the white and gold dress she was wearing swaying with her slight movements.

 

“Pfft, you're such a downer,” Laiserta griped, stepping forward with Trunks as the line moved. Her red eyes darted left to meet Trunks's. “I don't know how you've survived as long as you have with her,” she quipped, smirking as she knew that Armada could hear her over their encrypted radio channel.

 

“It's been tough,” Trunks sighed, facetiously pretending to be hurt. “I say my prayers every night that I can survive another day,” he added dramatically, before laughing at his own joke.

 

Laiserta laughed with him, before her eyes drifted away from his as she scanned their surroundings. The two of them were dressed up as well; Trunks wearing what was equivalent to a Bmyhadian tuxedo while Laiserta wore a black form-fitting gown. Her gown was covered in a shiny lace that glittered when she moved, which according to Laiserta was strategic. The gown had long sleeves and a high collar, so to take away from the conservative coverage she needed it to appear to be flashy and draw attention. The ultimate result, according to her, was that she fit right in at fancy galas and was often ignored. Trunks wasn't sure that he believed her, but for now he hoped she was right.

 

It didn't take much longer before Trunks and Laiserta were escorted through security at the front doors to the casino. They each walked through a scanner just the same as the other patrons, and continued on into the building like those same other patrons. “We're inside,” Trunks said softly but loud enough for his radio to pickup the sound.

 

“ _Good,”_ Armada's voice replied. _“Take up position, I'm going to head for the VIP area upstairs.”_

 

“Roger that,” Laiserta answered for the two of them. She smiled broadly at Trunks before speaking a bit more loudly and drawn out. “Darling, I'd love to take a few turns at the tables before we head over to the show.” She paused for a moment, before adding “If that's okay with you, of course.” Laiserta smirked as she noticed a few people glance in their direction. She needed some people to notice them so they appeared to be just another couple with far too much money to burn.

 

“Anything you wish,” Trunks answered her with the same louder-than-necessary enthusiasm, smiling back at her. Laiserta was certainly fun to work with on jobs like this.

 

The pair headed into the casino, passing through a large open room housing hundreds of what Trunks guessed were slot machines. He supposed gambling wasn't too different wherever you were, because while he didn't necessarily know how these slot machines worked, they made noises and blinked their lights not unlike slot machines he had seen on Earth. Well, at least the ones he had seen in old movies. He wasn't sure there was a casino still standing anywhere at home. He wondered if he should look for one when he went back.

 

Laiserta led the way and the pair soon found themselves in the quieter but still bustling area of game tables. Trunks didn't recognize any of the games being played, but he supposed that wasn't a huge concern. They were here to rescue the retired Tyrian general, a man named Ackerman from being assassinated. He didn't need to know how to play.

 

His comrade had long since released her arm from his, and Trunks followed behind her as she wound her way through the crowds. She stopped at a table near a large pillar and stood underneath of the obvious security camera mounted on the ceiling next to the pillar. Trunks walked up and stood next to Laiserta as she turned her back to the pillar.

 

“The floor is slightly elevated here, so we've got a good view of the table-games area,” she explained to him. “If the map we received as correct, then spider-head should be up and behind us on the second floor,” Laiserta added, turning and nodded her head at the large ornate staircase at the end of the room behind them.

 

Trunks nodded to her, and started to take in his surroundings. The casino was absolutely _packed;_ apparently there was some kind of concert happening in a few hours at a stadium attached to Lind's Hammer. He surmised that it would be good cover for a hit squad to show up. No one would be surprised to see a group of men entering the casino during a huge event like this.

 

His train of thought led him to suddenly notice something. As Trunks looked around the room, he noticed pairs of men who were watching their surroundings and unfocused on the gaming tables around them. His eyes caught one pair after another, all spread apart in what appeared to be equal distances, and all facing the staircase behind himself and Laiserta.

 

“Hey, Lai,” Trunks said, looking at his partner to get her attention.

 

“Yep, I see 'em too,” she answered, her eyes darting around the room. “And they're all hiding Frescan Boullier VX-952 RS under their jackets,” she added.

 

“They're hiding what?” Trunks asked, confused by what she had said.

 

“Really big guns,” she added, turning to glance at Trunks for a moment. “Spider-head, you better be in position because I think our friends are about to make their move.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

“ _Spider-head, you better be in position because I think our friends are about to make their move.”_

 

“I'm approaching the general's suite now,” Armada said under her breath in response to her comrade downstairs. She walked briskly, but not so fast as to draw attention. The gold scarf wrapped around her neck flitted in the air behind her as she walked, making her way down one hallway after another, looking for the door with right number to find the general. The sooner she got to him, the sooner they could extract him through the back of the casino and complete the job. She was hoping to avoid an open gun-fight with the mercenaries hired to kill the man, but they were moving faster than she anticipated.

 

Armada moved swiftly past a hotel staffer who walked by while carrying a tray of food. She saw the suite ahead that she was destined for; the numbers '752' were present in gold on an ornate wooden door leading into what was a circular dinner and gaming suite. Taking a glance behind her to make sure no one was following her, Armada moved quickly for the door. Without any hesitation, she swiftly opened the door and entered, glancing behind her again as she closed the door to make sure that no one saw her enter the suite.

 

As soon as Armada turned around to look into the room she had entered, she found the barrel of a pistol leveled at her, squarely between her eyes and only inches away from the touching the bridge of her nose. Without making a move, she looked past the weapon to see who was wielding it. A woman with brown hair that was pinned up ornately stared hard at the mercenary with slightly lighter brown eyes. She was wearing a long dark burgundy formal gown which flowed down to the floor.

 

Armada's jaw tightened slightly before saying the only thing that came to mind. “You're not General Ackerman,” she said stonily.

 

“No,” the woman replied, moving her right thumb on the back of the pistol and loading a bullet into the chamber with a low click. “I'm not.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks could feel his heart-rate increase as he noticed various members of the hit-squad start speaking to each other. “I thought they weren't supposed to move this early,” Trunks whispered to his comrade, his eyes never leaving their adversaries.

 

“Not according to the info we received. Damnit,” Laiserta cursed under her breath in response. “We need to move, _now_ ,” she added, gritting her teeth as she pushed her way through the crowd. Trunks quickly followed, and while the pair moved swiftly they tried to keep their speed under control so as to not draw the ire of the foes who didn't know that they were there. Laiserta lead them around the pillar and towards the back of the room, headed for a hallway to the right of the grand staircase. Just as they made their way into the hallway and turned around a corner, the pair heard their third comrade speak in their ears via the radio.

 

“ _You're not General Ackerman.”_

 

“Armada!” Trunks stopped walking and tried to hail his comrade. “Armada, what's going on?” he asked tersely.

 

Laiserta stopped and looked at Trunks, the pair of them waiting for a response from Armada while standing around the corner in the hallway, just under the staircase leading upstairs and out of sight of anyone in the gaming tables area. After a few agonizingly long seconds, the relative quiet was interrupted by gunshots ringing out in the room they had just vacated. The two mercenaries' heads snapped around to the direction of the noise, as screams rose up filled the air along with the sound of more gunshots. Laiserta pushed past Trunks and pressed her back up against the wall just at the corner of the hallway. She ripped open the skirt of her dress just below her hips, revealing her pistols and few clips of ammo strapped to the inside of her legs on top of her black body suit she wore underneath the gown.

 

“Here,” Laiserta said to Trunks before quickly tossing him one of her pistols followed by an additional clip of ammunition. “I hope you know how to use it,” she added.

 

Trunks nodded in response before stuffing the extra magazine into a pocket on the inside of his black blazer. People started running down the hallway, screaming the whole way. Trunks moved back next to Laiserta as the casino's patrons ran by, ignoring the two mercenaries holding weapons in the hallway.

 

“Lai, where are they?” Trunks asked over the crowd stampeding past them.

 

Laiserta turned and used her eyes to look through the wall behind them, slowly moving her head as she scanned across the room behind them. “Shit,” she cursed, “they're moving for the staircase and hotel security is outnumbered. We're gonna have to keep them from getting upstairs,” she added before looking at Trunks. “You ready?”

 

He nodded in response, holding up the pistol she had handed him in front of his chest. “Let's do this.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

“ _Armada! Armada, what's going on?”_

 

The woman in question couldn't answer her comrade, despite his plea over the radio in her ear. She swallowed hard, thinking about exactly how she could try and take the gun away from the other woman that had it pointed at her.

 

“Hands up where I can see them,” the brown-haired woman commanded, her strange accent lending power to her words. Armada slowly raised her empty hands up, stopping when they were even with her shoulders.

 

Before either woman could make another move, gunshots rang out in the distance and immediately drew their attention. The woman with the gun grimaced and stepped forward, pressing the barrel of her pistol directly into Armada's forehead. The mercenary's back was forced against the wooden door behind her, and she inwardly cursed her luck. This woman, whoever she was, knew what she was doing – that little bit of space that Armada just lost limited her options even more.

 

“I'm not here to hurt you,” Armada said, ignoring the sounds coming through the radio in her ear for the moment.

 

“Don't try to lie to me, mercenary,” the woman bit back. “You came here searching for General Ackerman; that tells me everything I need to know about why you're here,” she finished.

 

“I was sent here to stop General Ackerman from being assassinated by the guys downstairs who started shooting,” Armada continued, despite the woman's warning. She paused a moment as a thought came to her. “You're not Ackerman, but you are who we're looking for, aren't you?”

 

The woman smirked. “Why would I even deign to answer that question?” she asked. “I confirm my identity to you, and then you attempt to kill me. I'm not so stupid as to fall for something so amateurish,” she added snidely. “Besides that, you're not in any position to fight back against me. One false move and you'll end up with a bullet or six in your brain,” she finished, her eyes narrowing and her voice dropping slightly alongside her warning.

 

Before their conversation could continue, there was a loud banging on the wooden door behind Armada. Both women's attention was drawn to the door, but Armada didn't move. Everything was silent a moment before muffled voices could be heard on the other side of the door.

 

“Call your men off, _now!_ ” the woman demanded, her voice low but sharp.

 

“They're not with me,” Armada reiterated. “I'm part of a team here to stop them, like I told you.”

 

“I see,” the woman replied, taking a step back from the enemy before her. Keeping her pistol pointed at Armada's head, she added darkly, “You've made your decision. Death it is, then.”

 

Armada said nothing, and there was banging on the door again. Still, she made no move and merely stared down the woman before her. The banging continued as both women were silent for a long moment.

 

“You're not going to kill me,” Armada stated flatly. “It doesn't help you right now to do so. If you shoot me, maybe you get one of the guys behind the door,” she continued her explanation. “Even so, they'll still get in here. And they're armed with assault rifles, while you have one pistol and maybe some extra ammunition, assuming you ever get a chance to reload.”

 

The woman smirked in response and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “You're right,” she said, opening her eyes as her expression softened slightly. “And you're wrong. But for now,” she lowered her pistol, both hands still holding on to it, “I'll use you to get out of here.”

 

Before Armada could respond, a much larger object slammed into the door behind her, knocking her a step away from the door. Armada turned to look at the door as the other woman in the room stared at it with gritted teeth. “They're going to ram it in,” she hissed.

 

Armada's mind raced with possibilities. She didn't know how many enemies were on the other side of the door, but she had to assume the worst. She needed a plan, and she needed it _fast_. The other woman set the pistol down on the built-in sofa behind her and moved to push the table in front of her over for cover. The image sparked an idea in Armada's mind, and she immediately moved to stop her.

 

“Wait!” Armada said, holding the other end of the table up with her hands as the woman set her left foot on the edge, preparing to push it over. “I've got an idea,” she added, staring at the other woman with determination burning in her eyes. She was getting out of here alive, and so was her target.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Laiserta took off running from around the corner, back onto the game floor and Trunks sprinted behind her. They didn't make it too far back into the room before they saw two men wearing casino security uniforms ducked behind a table they had knocked over on its side for cover. Laiserta slowed her approach, ducking down as she ran, and Trunks copied her maneuver.

 

“Hey,” Laiserta called out before kneeling down behind a table near the security guards that wasn't turned over. Trunks settled in next to her.

 

The two security guards looked over, and one immediately drew his pistol at Laiserta. She couldn't blame him; they were both carrying weapons and approaching from behind.

 

“We're not with those guys, we want to help you out,” she quickly explained.

 

“Who the hell are you?” the second security guard demanded angrily.

 

Their conversation was interrupted as bullets peppered the gaming table the two security guards were hiding behind. Bits and pieces of broken wood from the table rained down on them as the two guards winced, preparing themselves to be hit. Luckily, no bullets made it through the table by the time the small assault stopped.

 

“Does it matter?” Trunks asked, clearly making his point.

 

“We need to talk to whoever's in charge,” Laiserta added. The two security guards looked at one another, and after a quick second they nodded.

 

“That's gonna be difficult,” the guard farthest away from Laiserta answered. “They came in hard and already took out most of our team. The boss is cutoff on the other end of the casino dealing with another firefight. They came in from multiple directions,” he finished.

 

“Do you have a radio?” Trunks asked, interrupting Laiserta before she got to her next question.

 

The first guard shook his head. “They're jamming our signals, we can't get through to anyone.”

 

“Shit,” Laiserta cursed with a sigh. “If the radio starts working, make sure to tell your guys not to shoot us,” she added. The men nodded in the affirmative.

 

She turned away from the guards and looked up toward the grand staircase off to their right. “Looks like a group already got upstairs,” she said to Trunks before looking at him. “We'll have to trust Armada for now and take out as many as we can down here. If we run upstairs to help her, they'll keep moving in from here and we'll have a hell of a time getting out,” she finished.

 

Trunks nodded. “I take we're going for the exit through the kitchen on the other side of the hotel?” he asked, just to be sure. They had all studied the map they were provided of the casino and hotel so they knew they only had three exit options, two of which were already cut off.

 

“I think that's gonna be our only option,” Laiserta replied. She took another look toward the slot machines toward the entrance. “They came in the front, and there's more on their way. We've gotta move,” she stopped to look back at him. “Follow me and don't get shot,” she tacked on with a smirk.

 

“I'll try not to,” Trunks replied, mimicking her smirk.

 

Laiserta headed out first, ducking behind tables as she moved. Some tables had been kicked over, but most were still standing, if offset from where they were initially sitting, probably pushed out of the way as people fled the room. She stopped at one point and held up her left hand toward Trunks, indicating for him to stop. He nodded and she continued on, moving over to a table that had been tipped on its side. Picking it up with just her left hand, Laiserta stayed in a crouched position as she slowly moved into position in front of the large staircase. The mercenaries saw her maneuver and started shooting, covering the table in bullet-holes.

 

Trunks took the opportunity Laiserta had given him to move away from her, toward their left. He went mostly unnoticed by the mercenaries who were busy shooting at his comrade as he made his way around in an arc, trying to get as close to their side in a flanking position as he could. Trunks felt a little bad at first that Laiserta was acting as the decoy, but then he remembered her lecturing him once on how bullets won't penetrate her muscles. In this case, in the Minovsky field surrounding the building that disabled Trunks's ability to use his ki, Laiserta had the better defenses. It made sense for her to put herself in harm's way, even if he didn't like it.

 

As Trunks made his way around, still crouching behind tables as he moved from one to the next, he nearly choked when he turned and saw someone on the ground, scrambling to pick up casino chips. “Hey,” he whispered harshly, “get out of here!”

 

A large head of wavy and styled light blonde hair flipped back as the woman beneath it lifted her head to look at him. “No way!” she hissed back angrily, her brown eyes narrowing at Trunks. “I'm not losing out on all this money, so piss off!” After telling him off in the most angry whispering Trunks had ever heard, she went back to piling chips up into her black dress, which she was holding out like a hammock to stuff all of the casino chips in.

 

Trunks had to bite his lip from saying something back to the woman, and reminded himself that he had far more important things to do than argue with some random Bmyhadian in a casino. He turned and looked over the table he was ducked behind to see mercenaries still firing at Laiserta. Someone in the front held up his fist and the others stopped firing. Several men started moving slowly forward toward Laiserta's position. Knowing he needed to help, Trunks brought Laiserta's pistol up, holding it with both hands as he rested his forearms on the edge of the table. Taking one mercenary in his sight that was headed for Laiserta, he fired several shots, most of them hitting his target in the chest and dropping him.

 

The other mercenaries turned in Trunks's direction, so he lowered his hands and ducked behind the table. Just as a few bullets hit the table behind him, Trunks looked over toward Laiserta and saw her life her pistol above cover and fire off several shots. He heard several bodies hit the floor behind him followed by the sounds of several assault rifles returning fire on his comrade.

 

Just as Trunks was about to turn around and take another shot at their adversaries, the lights in the casino went out, leaving him in complete darkness. It took several seconds for the emergency lighting to kick on, which mostly lit up pathways on the floor with small lights lining the aisles in between game tables.

 

“Lai,” Trunks said softly into his radio to hail his comrade.

 

“ _Damnit, they cut the power,”_ he heard Laiserta respond. _“Okay, I wasn't planning on this, but... Yo, 'Eye in the Sky', help me out here. Where are the majority of our enemies posted up?”_

 

Trunks's face twisted up into confusion. Who was Laiserta talking to? And couldn't she see all of their enemies, anyway? Before he could say anything though, a new voice responded over the radio.

 

“ _They're moving to the front entrance of the casino to deal with police. But there's also a group upstairs at the suite trying to get in, and I think Armada's inside. Since the hotel went dark it's hard to see everything.”_

 

“ _Marice?”_ Trunks gasped into his radio without thinking. Wherever she was, it sounded as if she was watching security cameras inside the building for them. He had no idea she was going to be doing that, and he thought Armada didn't know either; especially after she had made the point to Trunks that she didn't want Marice involved. But Laiserta clearly knew... _oh boy_ , Trunks thought with a grimace. Once they were done with this job, things weren't going to go well back at the ship.

 

“ _Thanks for the update. Trunks, head over to me, we need to get upstairs and help out spider-head while these guys are busy with the locals,”_ Laiserta's voice commanded him through the radio.

 

“ _Right,”_ Trunks replied. He took a quick look over cover, hoping he could see anything useful. Fortunately he could see three mercenaries standing in a center aisle, the emergency lighting on the floor shining enough light on them that he could make out their rough forms. They seemed to be discussing something when they turned and headed back toward the slot machine area, and Trunks took that as his cue to move.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The door to suite 752 burst open and the wood from the inside of the frame around the door handle splintered apart from the force. One man stepped into the room, the assault rifle in his arms levied at whoever was behind the door and ready to fire. He stopped and blinked in confusion though, as the only person inside the suite was a brown-haired woman in a dark red gown, who stood behind a gaming table while holding her hands up.

 

“Please don't hurt me!” she said, her voice and hands shaking from nervousness.

 

The mercenary was about to turn around and ask his comrades to verify they had the correct room when suddenly the wooden door to his right smashed into him, pushing him back into the broken door frame, his head slamming into the corner of the wooden casing.

 

Armada swiftly spun around from behind the door and grabbed the stunned mercenary from behind. She snatched a handful of his suit jacket in her left hand just below his shoulder, and using her right hand she reached around and placed her hand over his on the trigger to the weapon he was carrying. Without looking, she fired into the doorway out into the hallway, and could immediately tell that bullets were hitting the men with him. Someone returned fire and shot the man she was using as a shield, but luckily no bullets passed through him completely.

 

She fired for several seconds, emptying the clip into whoever happened to be standing on the other side of the door. She dropped the man serving as her shield, taking the weapon he carried from him as he fell. She worked to pull the empty magazine out of the weapon and reload, when another mercenary stepped into the doorway who apparently hadn't been hit. Before she had a chance to react, his body was peppered with several gunshots, and he fell to the floor.

 

Armada turned around to see that the decoy, the woman in the burgundy dress had pulled out her pistol and clearly fired on their adversary. She lowered her weapon and looked back at Armada. “You missed one,” she added with a barely-there smile.

 

Armada nodded to her before spinning around and kneeling over the men they had taken out. She picked up another rifle, and using the strap she slung it over her back. She quickly raided their bodies for ammunition, reloading the one rifle she had already emptied. She grabbed a third gun, turning to hold it out to her temporary ally. “Here,” she said.

 

The woman shook her head. “I prefer my own weapon, thank you,” she responded, before reaching down and picking up a pistol magazine from one of the men who had a pistol holstered inside of his jacket, under his left arm. She checked the ammunition in the clip, before sliding it into a pocket on the right hip of her dress. “Lucky me, it's the same caliber,” she added.

 

“Let's get moving,” Armada said flatly and stood up. The moment she did, however, the lights flickered and went out, leaving them in total darkness. Neither woman said anything, but waited a few seconds and the emergency lights kicked on, providing them just enough light to see in the hotel's hallways.

 

As they moved into the hallway and started walking toward the southwest end of the building, Armada held her hand up to her radio. She hadn't had time to listen to what was going on with her comrades and had ignored the sounds and voices she had heard while focused on her own issue. Now though, she needed to hail them that it was time to go. She opened her mouth to speak when a voice came through first and cut her off.

 

“ _Looks like Armada's okay, I can see her and someone else standing in the hallway outside the suite with a bunch of guys on the ground. You guys need to hurry up to meet up with her!”_

 

“Marice!” Armada hissed angrily. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

“ _Don't answer that,”_ Laiserta's voice quickly butted in. _“We're on our way to you spider-head, stay put, we'll be there in a few minutes,”_ she added.

 

Armada cursed under her breath, her hand falling away from her ear. She looked to the woman standing beside, just making out her eyes in the dim hallway lighting. “We're going to wait for my team before we proceed,” she deadpanned. The woman merely nodded in response. Armada didn't let the silence sit between them for very long.

 

“So if you're not General Ackerman, where is he?” she asked, her voice hard.

 

“Probably somewhere on the Ephyran coast, fishing when he's not with his wife in their cottage in the hills, enjoying retirement,” the woman responded. “He was a dear friend, and he let me use his name to hide my own identity when necessary.”

 

“Wouldn't that put his own life at risk?” Armada asked, genuinely curious about an arrangement that didn't make much sense to her.

 

The woman laughed, a smile crossing her lips. “Not where he lives,” she added, her voice mirthful.

 

Less than a minute later, Trunks and Laiserta came down the hallway from the large staircase, moving quickly but not full-out running so as to keep the noise down. They could barely see Armada in the dark, and when Laiserta realized someone was standing with her she raised her pistol at the woman.

 

“Lower your weapon,” Armada instantly commanded. “She's the one we're here for.”

 

“Huh,” Laiserta replied, doing as told. “You're not General Ackerman but you look like a Tyrian,” she added.

 

“Here,” Armada said while stepping over to Trunks. She handed him the assault rifle she was carrying in her hands, then proceeded to swing around the one she had strapped across her back so she was ready to fire. “I've got one extra clip for each,” she said, and Trunks nodded in response. Laiserta took back her second pistol from him, and the group headed down the hotel hallway, headed for the opposite end from the casino.

 

They moved at a brisk walking pace, not wanting to generate too much noise to draw attention to themselves. As the reached the hallway at the end of the building, Laiserta stopped running and turned around briefly. “Hang on a sec,” she whispered, drawing both pistols up and firing two bullets down the darkened hall. There were two grunts in response, and what sounded like heavy bags falling down to the floor.

 

The brown-haired woman's eyes widened in shock. She herself was a good shot, but she'd never seen someone fire large caliber pistols with one hand each and hit their target so impressively, in the dark and at a significant distance. “Okay, we're good,” Laiserta turned, holstering one pistol on the inside of her right thigh while keeping the other in her left hand.

 

The mercenaries and their charge headed down a stairwell, down two flights to the ground floor. They quickly found the hotel kitchen, and verifying it was empty, headed for the back of the kitchen out of the service exit. Laiserta kept checking behind them, to make sure no one from the casino was following them. When they found the service exit, Armada nodded to the woman with them, indicating that she would open the door and head out first. She set her hand on the handle, and prepared to pursh the door open.

 

Laiserta turned around just as Armada was about to open the door. Her eyes widened in shock. “Wait!” she tried to shout and stop her comrade, but she was too late.

 

When Armada opened the door, the group was immediately blinded by the lights of several weapons pointed right at them. Recognizing quickly that it was the Temelt-Ran police force, Armada dropped her weapon and raised her hands.

 

“Are we really gonna surrender?!” Laiserta demanded, her voice a hoarse whisper.

 

“Do it, Lai,” Trunks chided her, dropping his weapon and raising his hands as well. Laiserta sighed and grimaced before following the movements of the three people with her, dropping her weapons to the ground and raising her hands.

 

It didn't take long for the Temelt-Ranian police force to put Trunks and his comrades in handcuffs and confiscate their weapons. The group was led over to a large police truck where they stood at the end, waiting to be escorted inside. Their weapons were bagged and in the process of being loaded into the truck. The officer handling the weapons dropped the bag containing Laiserta's pistols. “Hey, careful with that,” she growled at him, irritated that she was following along with the surrender. She could easily take these guys out and they could flee; why wasn't Armada letting her handle it?

 

Trunks simply stood with his arms cuffed in front of him, watching the scene unfold around him. He noticed one man get out of an unmarked car and approach a few officers in uniform. He was wearing a suit with a long coat, but had no apparent insignia on him. Trunks turned away for a moment, but something nagged at him in the back of his head so he looked back again. Now the man in the suit was walking toward him and his comrades, and he knew he recognized something about him.

 

“Thank you very much for your work gentlemen, but I'll be taking it from here,” the man in the suit said to a few officers standing near Trunks and his allies. Armada had turned at the sound of his voice, and Trunks noticed that she seemed shocked.

 

The two officers that the man in the suit spoke to said something in return, to which the man replied “It's all right, I'll handle all of the paperwork, don't worry.” With that finished, he approached Trunks and Armada, and Trunks instantly realized who it was.

 

“Lieutenant Strife?” Trunks asked, his face displaying his shock. What was an Utian police officer doing _here_ , on the other side of the continent?

 

Armada's face instantly settled into anger. “ _You!_ ” she started, but was cut short by the man himself.

 

“I need you all to follow me,” Strife began, holding out his arms as if to round up the four of them. “ _Now_ ,” he stressed, giving Armada knowing look. As the group turned away from Strife, he moved around them and pointed to an alley across the street from where they stood behind the police van. He walked briskly and the rest of the group followed, except for Laiserta.

 

Trunks noticed that Laiserta hadn't moved from where she stood, so he turned toward her. “What are you doing?” he asked. Not that he knew where Strife was leading them, but it was apparently _away_ from police custody.

 

Laiserta turned and stepped up into the police van, and after a few seconds she jumped out and jogged across the street to catch up to her comrades. “I'm not leaving my pistols,” she said with a pout, holding the evidence bag with her weapons in them in her hands.

 

Strife led them into the alley, and halfway down he stopped and turned to face the mercenaries. He lifted his right wrist to his mouth and spoke into it, “Bring the car around.” He then reached into an inside jacket pocket and pulled out two keys, handing them to Armada and the brown-haired woman with them. “These should unlock those cuffs. Once you're free, head down to the end of this alley and there should be a vehicle waiting for you. Then get the hell out of here,” he instructed. “Don't worry about TRPD, I'll handle them,” he finished.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Trunks asked. Armada had unlocked her handcuffs and turned and handed him the keys to do the same.

 

Strife smirked at Trunks. “We'll talk about that another time, for now I need you all to disappear, got it?”

 

Trunks finished unlocking his cuffs, dropping them unceremoniously to the ground. He looked to Armada, who looked like she wanted to say something to Strife, but instead took off running for the end of the alley. Everyone save the police officer who had freed them did the same. Strife turned and watched them go.

 

Just as Armada reached the end of the alley, a black car pulled up and screeched to a stop. The driver's side door opened and a man with short brown hair got out. Trunks quickly realized it was Detective Neimann, who merely smiled knowingly at the group. Trunks wanted to say something, but knowing there wasn't time, he followed Strife's directive and focused on leaving. He ran around to the front passenger side and got in.

 

Laiserta and the unknown Tyrian general got in the back, leaving Armada to drive. As the group pulled away, Laiserta ripped open the evidence bag in her hands to pull her pistols out. She let out a heavy sigh of relief. “You guys don't know how much these things cost me, they're custom,” she explained despite no one asking.

 

The group sat in silence for a few minutes after that as Armada pulled away, making sure not to speed and attract unwanted attention. Laiserta was humming to herself and seemed to be in her own little world, when suddenly something occurred to her. “Oh yeah,” she said, turning to look at the woman sitting next to her. “Who the hell are you?”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Still in their clothing for the mission, the mercenaries and their charge stood and sat in the bridge as the ship was on auto-pilot, flying them back to Ute. Trunks and Marice sat in chairs near the pilot's console, Laiserta stood on the opposite end leaning back against a wall, and Armada stood near the center, looking at the Tyrian general they had rescued from nearly certain death at Lind's Hammer. They all looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something.

 

“Thank you,” she began, the accent she spoke with making her sound very regal and graceful. “If not for your team, I would have likely died today. So... thank you,” she finished, her words heartfelt and sincere.

 

“It was just a job lady, don't get so emotional,” Laiserta quipped from where she stood, her arms crossed over her chest.

 

The woman closed her eyes and laughed softly to herself. “Even so,” she said, looking up to Laiserta, “here I stand. I want you to know that I do appreciate that.”

 

“Who are you?” Trunks asked from his seat. He had his hands on his knees, and the tie around his neck was undone and hanging loosely.

 

The woman smiled warmly at him. “Obviously I'm not General Evert Ackerman, though a fine man and colleague he is,” she began. “I am indeed a retired Tyrian general. My name is Naixame Chiro.”

 

“Was Ackerman a contemporary of yours?” Armada asked flatly. Trunks knew what she was getting at right away. Naixame did not look nearly as old as Ackerman... hell, she didn't look much older than Trunks himself.

 

“Yes, he was,” she answered.

 

“She's a Tyrian,” Laiserta cut in, knowing what Armada was trying to ascertain. “They don't age. Well, they age, but they look young until they get _really_ old, when all of a sudden BAM, they're all wrinkles and gray hair,” she finished.

 

Naixame laughed. “That is one way of putting it,” she added.

 

“The company that hired us to protect is Serbine Security and Logistics,” Armada broke in. “They need you to send them a message through your normal channels to confirm that you're alive so we can get paid.” She paused a moment before speaking once more. “What I want to know is, why did they tell us we were going after Ackerman when you're not him?” Armada asked, her eyes and voice stony.

 

“They don't know that I'm not General Ackerman,” Naixame replied. “I will do as you requested,” she added, heading toward a bag in the back of the bridge that she had retrieved when they were still in Temelt-Ran.

 

“That's not all,” Armada spoke up once more. Naixame and the rest of the ship's crew turned and looked at Armada, a bit confused as to what she was referencing. “I want to hire you.”

 

Naixame's eyes widened in shock, and Laiserta was the only one to speak. “What the hell?” she asked, clearly bewildered by her comrade's statement.

 

“You're the same Naixame Chiro that has won a number of battles with extremely limited resources in hostile environments, right?” Armada asked rhetorically. “I need your skills. Name your price.”

 

Naixame took a moment to take a breath and think about her answer. “Thirty percent.”

 

“Thirty percent of what?” Laiserta quipped.

 

The general looked to Laiserta and then back to Armada. “Thirty percent of whatever the group earns while I'm working for you.”

 

“Twenty-five,” Armada countered, her countenance betraying no thoughts or emotions.

 

“You have yourself a deal,” Naixame replied and smiled. “May I ask the names of those whom I will be working with?”

 

“Laiserta,” Laiserta nodded and called out. “Lai's also fine.”

 

Naixame nodded, her eyes following in an arc to the next person. “Armada,” the unspoken leader of the group replied.

 

“I'm Marice,” the young Euphorian replied in her bubbly voice while waving. Naixame smiled at her before turning to look at the one man in the ship.

 

“Trunks,” Trunks replied, giving her a tired smile. “Nice to meet you Naixame,” he said her name a little slowly, trying to make sure he had the pronunciation correct.

 

Naixame sensed his unease with her name, which wasn't unusual for those who weren't from the place she was born on Tyron. “Please, my friends call me Naya,” she said, showing her new comrades a genuine smile.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks so much for reading! I hope the chapter was enjoyable even though the action had to wait until the second half. Also, for those wondering, Naya's accent is basically a slight English accent that sounds very prim and proper. She's a proper lady and speaks accordingly, despite being old enough to be everyone's mother, hahah.

 

Now for a bit of fun. Since we have our main cast, I thought I would now share theme songs! It's nothing super important, but I listen to a ton of music for inspiration (and have even quoted some in chapters as relevant) so I have picked what I think represent a good character theme song for each of our main characters. I thought I would share them just for fun. :]

 

So first up is Trunks! To me, his theme song is appropriate whether we are just talking about Mirai Trunks's story in Dragonball and nothing else, but it also fits for “Illumination” as well. His theme song is “Fly From the Inside” by Shinedown (one of my favorite bands). I chose this song for him, because while it talks about some very difficult struggles, overall it has an uplifting/positive sound. There are many key lyrics in here that pertain to him, especially “Here's the weight of the world on my shoulders.” The major metaphor in the song is about doing the impossible - “I found a way to steal the sun from the sky.” This definitely pertains to him in how he's done the impossible, in traveling through time and gaining the strength needed to defeat the androids. I hope some of you will give this song a listen, and hopefully enjoy it.

 

Until then, please review and let me know that you are reading this fic and what you think about it. I know many readers initially think I have “nerfed” Trunks, but there are reasons that he isn't just running around blowing up everything in sight. Number one, it's not in his personality to just demolish whatever conflict gets in his way. Yes, he kills, but he kills when necessary, and that's when other options have been exhausted. Secondly, if he went around using his powers all over the place he would be detected and arrested. In this area of the universe I have built for “Illumination” to take place in, ki can be scanned, measured and tracked. In addition, there are obstacles like gauntlets and Minovsky fields that can prevent the use of ki. Without these things, yes, Trunks could just steamroll everyone and everything. But where's the fun in that? A good story has to have conflict and has to have believable obstacles for characters to overcome. I hope I'm creating that, even if it doesn't appeal to the DBZ fan who just likes to see characters go Super Saiyan and destroy everything. ;]

 

Thanks again for reading!

 


	22. Mission 14:  Secret Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally ready to take the fight to Rieve, Trunks and Armada leave on their own to destroy Rieve's merchant fleet on a destitute world in the Republic. They know a fight will await them, but what they find is far different than what they expected.

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Closing the lid of the cargo crate, Dax turned and nodded to the men with him. "Looks good, everything is here," he added. Another member of Rieve nodded to him before marking down on the tablet he carried that they had received the entire shipment. Dax looked around the large open warehouse they were standing in; he counted a total of sixteen crates so it shouldn't take them long to get them loaded onto the truck.

 

They were in Mensa, another city in Bmyhad not too far from Ute. He let out a sigh; he didn't like being this close to Ute. He didn't know if Armada was still there, but had to assume so until he knew otherwise. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep avoiding her, but he was going to try as long as he could.

 

Dax's attention then turned the young man with the flaming red hair styled up into a mohawk. Rouge was talking to another member of Rieve, clearly flirting with the woman. He smiled broadly while talking to her, his arms swinging nervously at his sides. Dax nearly rolled his eyes at the sight; they had work to do, there wasn't time for Rouge to be flirting with a local member in Mensa.

 

"Rouge," Dax called out, certain he had said the name loud enough for the young man to hear him. Rouge however made no move, so Dax yelled his name again, much louder. "Rouge!" he shouted, and many members of Rieve stopped and looked at Dax. The woman Rouge was talking to even seemed to notice, as her eyes drifted away from Rouge and back to Dax, who was standing in the distance behind him.

 

Frustrated, Dax's eyes narrowed and he scowled. "You little shit," he muttered before taking a deep breath and yelling even louder than the last time. " _Rura!_ " Dax shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice even further.

 

Rouge instantly tweaked his shoulders up before turning and running over to Dax. "Sorry man," Rouge huffed, "what's up?"

 

Dax smacked Rouge across the back of the head, and the younger man replied with an _'Ow!'_ before reaching up to hold the injured area with his right hand. "Open your ears, you dipshit," Dax reprimanded Rouge. He was already stressed from their current situation, and he wasn't feeling up to dealing with his red-haired subordinate today.

 

"Hey," Rouge whined, pouting his lips, "it's not fair when you call me Rura. Nobody calls me that, everybody knows me as Rouge. And I like it that way because Rouge is a much cooler name than my birth name," Rouge added, his lips curling up into a smirk.

 

"I yelled Rouge twice before I said Rura," Dax replied, still clearly annoyed. "Besides, nobody gives a damn what name you go by. I verified the shipment is good, so we need to get these crates back to headquarters," Dax finished, getting to the reason he was yelling for Rouge.

 

"Okay," the taller red-head replied. "Once we get these loaded then we'll stop by and visit the new team in Ute, right?" he asked, orange eyes bright with his admiration for Dax.

 

"No," Dax replied flatly. "We don't have time for that."

 

"But Ryan said—" Rouge started.

 

"I know what the _comonstoro_ said," Dax cut in, his scowl returning. "The priority is to get these weapons and armor back to the fleet, so that's what we're going to do. The team in Ute is fine, they don't need our help," he finished.

 

"But—OW!" Rouge tried to protest once more but was cut short when Dax smacked him across the back of the head again.

 

"Go make sure the truck gets pulled around so we can load up these crates. We need to get moving," Dax ordered. Rouge nodded while still rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, and wandered off to do as he was told.

 

Unbeknownst to Dax or any of the other members of Rieve in the warehouse, in the rafters above them was a special cloaking cloth that mirrored down to them what looked like the ceiling. The square cloth, two meters in length on each side, was tied down to a few beams to provide room for the man sitting above the cloth to spy on the Rieve members while hiding in open sight.

 

In his right ear, Nassas Reine wore a headphone that was playing back the live recording he was making with the device in his left hand. The night-vision goggles he wore helped him see the members of Rieve below him in the dark, including the man he was specifically tailing – the enforcer named Dax. Due to the conditions of the room and his position, Nassas was focused more on getting an audio recording than video, which wouldn't have been as useful. He needed to know where they were headed next, and for now that meant the local spaceport in Mensa to get their cargo loaded up and headed off-world.

 

_For someone tailing our favorite mercenaries, you sure do want to stay out of Ute_ , the Taydran spy thought as he watched Dax walk to the other end of the warehouse. Nassas wasn't looking forward to a long trek through space, but he'd been tasked to find the mercenaries on a special mission assigned to him by Commander Tresia. So while he still suspected that his ultimate targets were in Ute, for now he needed to stick to Dax and see where the Rieve enforcer was headed. He just hoped it wouldn't be a long trip.

 

 

-+-

 

 

_Right before your eyes_

_I am changing, changing_

_New life on the inside_

_I am changing, changing_

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 14: Secret Weapon

 

 

-+-

 

 

Almost two weeks after adding Naya to their group, everyone had fallen into a routine. Trunks had been out on two jobs with Laiserta, which they executed without any issue. Naya was working remotely, providing tactical support to the companies that requested it, still operating under the alias of General Ackermann. If she didn't have to reveal herself, she'd told Trunks, then she preferred not to. Money was coming in and everyone had settled in, including Marice. Although Armada had an argument with Laiserta about Marice's involvement in the job at Lind's Hammer, Armada eventually agreed to let Marice assist in purely support roles only. The Euphorian teenager was ecstatic to be of use.

 

Marice had continued her daily training with Trunks, and he was happy to work with her. She was a good student, she listened to him without arguing, and in general she was a sweet person. It was a lot like having a little sister, and Trunks felt protective of her just the same. He wondered if in some other version of events, he did have a little sister. What was her name? Was she like Marice? Was she different? Instead of making him sad, those thoughts actually made him smile. Even if he couldn't repair the damage done to his world, at least he knew he had saved another version of his world from the same fate.

 

When Naya joined their group, she chose the only bunk truly available to her – the third bed in Laiserta and Marice's room. Trunks felt a little bad that the three women were crowded into one room while both he and Armada had rooms to themselves, but he had to remind himself that everyone was probably better off leaving Armada to her own space. For him, well... it just didn't seem _proper_ to be sharing a room with a woman, as silly as it seemed to him considering everything he'd gone through.

 

Regardless, those three ladies had retired for the evening, and Trunks met Armada in the bridge as she had instructed him earlier that day. She said she had information on their target, and he could only assume she meant Rieve.

 

Trunks took a seat at the navigation console to the left of where Armada sat in the main pilot's chair. He let out a tired breath upon sitting, and looked over to her. "So what's up?"

 

"I think we're ready to make our first move against Rieve," Armada replied. She turned her attention back to the main display in front of her, bringing up a map and what appeared to be satellite images of the physical terrain and buildings on that map. "I paid a good bit of money for this intel, but everything I've cross referenced comes up good. This is a map of a space port and shipyard on a planet called Belos, just across the border in the southeastern Republic. All these ships," she said, pointing to the images on the map in front of her before turning to look at Trunks, "they're Rieve merchant ships. This is how they make their money.

 

"The base of operations for Rieve's merchant fleet is this spaceport on Belos," Armada continued. "If we destroy the spaceport, ships, and anything else that's there, we'll hit them in their wallet, _hard_ ," she stressed.

 

Admittedly, Trunks liked the idea of damaging Rieve in their resources. It wouldn't bring Q back, but it was a start at ending their criminal enterprise. "They must have some kind of defense," Trunks began, turning from the monitor to look at his comrade.

 

"They do," Armada replied, "but it's not enough to stop us. They have two space fighter brigades, ships that we can easily take out once we're planetside. They have a number of energy fighters there as well, but they're rank and file. The problem is going to be a man by the name of Preva. He's one of Rieve's elite guard, just like Corvus was. So that means he's at least as powerful as Corvus, possibly more."

 

Sensing what he thought was a bit of nervousness in her, Trunks tried to give Armada a reassuring smile. "It's okay. We'll be working together, it won't be like the last time," he said, referencing Armada's defeat at the hands of Corvus. Luckily he had arrived in time to stop her from being killed. But this would be different. He was helping her now, and she had agreed to it.

 

Armada didn't seem to have much of a reaction to his words. "I've chartered a private shuttle. We'll head out in the morning," she added. "It should take about a day to get there if we fly at full speed once we reach dark space."

 

"What do we tell the others?" Trunks asked. Surely they would be gone a few days and would have to tell them _something_.

 

"We're taking on a job," Armada started. "We'll be gone a few days. It's too dangerous to bring any of them with us." She paused a moment. "I don't think we should tell any of them about Rieve at this point," she tacked on.

 

"I agree," Trunks said while nodding. He trusted Marice, but he didn't want her to worry needlessly about him or Armada. He didn't know Naya well enough yet to determine if he trusted her, and Laiserta... well, he wanted to trust her, but he still wasn't sure. And if  _he_ wasn't sure, then he knew Armada wasn't ready to trust her, either.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The next morning, Trunks met Armada in the bridge. He was wearing his Capsule Corporation jacket with his sword strapped to his back, feeling ready to tackle whatever lay ahead of them. Armada had already donned her armor, looking just as ready as he was. She gave him a knowing look and nodded toward the lounge, and Trunks knew what she was getting at. They needed to tell the others that they were leaving.

 

Trunks walked into the lounge first, with Armada following behind. Laiserta sat in the back of the lounge, her feet propped up on the table as she leaned back into the booth, watching the monitor across the room from her. Naya sat on the adjacent end of the table, working on a laptop sitting in front of her. And Marice was eating some fruit while sitting beside Laiserta but not behind the table, also watching the monitor.

 

"Hey everyone," Trunks spoke, drawing the three women's attention to himself. Before anyone could say anything, he continued. "Armada and I are leaving on a job. We'll be back in a few days."

 

"Heh," Laiserta laughed, tapping on her chin with the index finger of her right hand, "if you two wanted to have a romantic getaway you should have just asked me. I can recommend some great hotels," she chided, smirking as she stared at Trunks.

 

But Trunks didn't fall for the bait and her insinuation slid off of him, ignored. Naya was the next to speak, but she turned her attention to Armada. "What kind of job is it?" she asked, her face showing her concern.

 

"It's too dangerous for any of you to go with us," Armada explained. "We'll be dealing with a number of energy-fighters, so it's best that we handle this on our own," she finished.

 

Naya shook her head. "But what exactly is the nature of the job?" she asked again, still not getting a satisfactory answer.

 

"It's personal," Trunks supplied flatly. He hoped that would be enough of an answer for Naya.

 

Laiserta nearly guffawed. "Geez, if you two just want to fu—"

 

" _Lai!_ " Naya shouted, cutting off her Taydran comrade as she gave her a disapproving look. Laiserta scrunched up her lips and turned away from Naya, clearly annoyed but not pressing further against the Tyrian general.

 

"Will it be dangerous for you, too?" Marice spoke up, drawing Trunks's attention to her. She was clearly worried, concern written across her face.

 

Trunks smiled; Marice was very sweet and caring and he appreciated that greatly about her. "We'll be fine," Trunks said reassuringly. "Armada and I are very strong. And we wouldn't take on something that we couldn't complete safely," he added. Marice seemed to relax a little, returning his smile though still showing her nervousness about the job.

 

"You can keep working while we're gone," Armada added, looking at Naya and then Laiserta.

 

"Like I needed your permission anyway," Laiserta muttered, raising her hands up and intertwining them behind the back of her head.

 

With their task of notifying their comrades complete, Armada turned and left the lounge, with Trunks following suit.

 

"Good luck!" Marice called out to them as they left. Trunks stopped in time to shoot her another smile, and Marice smiled again in return.

 

 

-+-

 

 

It didn't take long for Trunks and Armada to board their private shuttle and take off. What he didn't realize until he saw the spacecraft was how  _small_ it was. There was a little room for some cargo and that was it. They both sat up front at the piloting controls. He had asked her just before takeoff if she would explain how to pilot the shuttle to him. Much to his surprise, she complied. So after his flying lesson and once the ship escaped the gravity well of Bmyhad, Armada set the ship to auto-pilot to their destination, Belos.

 

"I researched more on our target last night after you went back to bed," Armada said, taking a data chip from one of the compartments on her belt and inserting it into the ship's console. She brought up the file system and more detailed satellite images of Belos and the Rieve base appeared on the monitor in front of them.

 

"I found a good spot for us to land and hide the shuttle. It's five-hundred kilometers away so the shuttle should be safe from damage during the operation," she started. "We'll land there and fly to the base. Rieve won't have any Minovsky generators on hand since they defend this base with energy fighters, so we won't have to worry about that." She switched to another image, this time a more detailed shot of ships sitting in a hangar at the shipyard. "These are the ships in their fighter squadrons," she explained. "We need to take those out first, then focus on destroying as much of everything else as quickly as we can before they launch a counterattack."

 

Something occurred to Trunks as he looked at the images and listened to Armada. “This base of Rieve's doesn't seem to be very well hidden. How come no one has seen it sooner?” he asked, turning to look at her.

 

“The entire southeastern Republic is relatively poor compared to the rest,” she began. “Belos is one of those poor nations. The country itself only takes up a fraction of the planet's surface. The areas outside of the nation of Belos are completely lawless. The Republican military doesn't patrol most of the southeastern Republic because they view it as a waste of money since none of the nations in the region bring in money to the Republic,” she paused a moment. “So it's easy for Rieve to hide behind the Republic's borders while simultaneously staying hidden.”

 

Trunks sighed and looked at the monitor in front of them again. It was sad, to say the least. He wondered about the Earth. After being nearly destroyed by the androids for almost twenty years, would the Earth be like Belos? Abandoned by the Republic and left for gangs to fight over? He very much wanted the Earth to stay in uncharted space, away from the Republic and anyone else who would do his world harm.

 

Trunks was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when Armada turned and looked directly at him. He turned to meet her gaze. Something about her eyes was different than normal, but before he could say anything, she spoke. "This is just the start of attacking Rieve," she said, her voice slightly softer than its usual hard edge. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay. We can back out now."

 

Trunks was _shocked_ , to put it mildly. She was offering him an out? At this point? Didn't she trust him when he said he was in, back when she was in the hospital after the battle with Corvus? He almost laughed and had to bite his lip for a moment before responding.

 

"I told you, I'm in," he reiterated sincerely. "I know that destroying Rieve isn't going to be easy, but I think that together we both have the strength to do it," he finished.

 

"It's not just about us," Armada replied. "Once we attack their merchant fleet, there's no turning back. They will come after you in force. They'll try to find out who you are, and where you're from so they can attack anyone you've ever known, especially your family." She paused a moment, letting her words sink in. "If you can't protect them, then you shouldn't do this. I," she fell silent for a few seconds before continuing. "I don't have any family or friends, or a homeworld for them to attack. I don't have anyone I have to protect, which is why I can do this. It's not the same for you," she finished, true concern showing on her face.

 

For the first time since he'd met Armada, Trunks was truly touched by her words. If she didn't care about him at all like she often said, then she wouldn't waste her time explaining all of this. He knew the danger posed to himself, and she knew that. What she was trying to get through to him was the danger he would be putting others in. If she only cared about him as a tool to attack Rieve, then she wouldn't care if he was emotionally crushed by the deaths of anyone around him.

 

"Armada, my homeworld, it's—" Trunks began but she cut him off.

 

"You don't need to tell me," she said swiftly. "It doesn't matter," she added.

 

She had told him that once before, that where he was from didn't matter, but the context was completely different. She was angry, and frustrated. Now... was entirely different. Now it didn't matter to her, but for a completely different reason. Trunks didn't know what that reason was, but there was no anger or frustration in her voice. The change in her from the last time they had this conversation was striking.

 

"Okay," Trunks replied softly, nodding to her. He was going to tell her about the Earth, and explain that it was safe because it was tucked away in an uncharted area of the northwestern Republican Frontier, so she didn't need to worry. And suddenly he realized that he trusted her. He didn't know exactly when that changed, but it had.

 

"I understand the risks," Trunks started again. "I'm still in. We can do this. We can put a stop to Rieve," he finished.

 

Armada smirked. "Glad to have you," she said, her voice confident.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Naya closed her laptop and set it down on her bed beside her. She stood up and stretched, her shoulders aching from sitting, hunched over her computer for several hours. Despite the ache in her body, those several hours had netted her nearly forty thousand betas, so it was well worth the effort. Deciding she was ready to get something to eat for lunch, she left the room she shared with Laiserta and Marice, and headed for the galley.

 

The trip to the galley required that Naya walk through the lounge. She had taken several steps into the lounge before she realized that Laiserta had something taken apart in pieces on the table, and that the 'something' looked an awful lot like a rocket launcher.

 

Naya nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized what she was looking at. "What the hell is that?" she asked, her voice more surprised than demanding.

 

Laiserta looked up at Naya and smirked. "This thing has been hiding in the safe in the hallway for a while now. Since spider-head and wonder boy left this morning, I figured it was a good opportunity to free it from the safe and have a look at it."

 

"You broke into the captain's safe?" Naya asked, her face already showing disapproval.

 

"Hey, the better question is, why does she have this thing?" Laiserta said, lifting the large weapon slightly from the table top.

 

Naya's eyes narrowed at Laiserta. "Lai, you're dodging the question," she said, unamused.

 

"It's a Venetian prototype weapon," Laiserta explained. "And you won't _believe_ what this thing does," she added, her smirk growing wider.

 

"A Venetian prototype?" Naya repeated, clearly curious. "How do you know that?"

 

"Because," Laiserta said, moving her hand down to the end of the weapon. She pressed a button and a small compartment opened, revealing a data chip sitting inside. Laiserta picked up the data chip, holding it up for Naya to see. "The Venetians always include a manual."

 

Naya didn't want to be curious about what Laiserta was up to, but she couldn't help herself. She moved and sat down at the table next to Laiserta, and Laiserta turned her laptop to face Naya so that the general could see what was on the data chip.

 

Naya's eyes scanned the screen as she quickly read over the information presented to her. "Project Nadol'tonne," she read aloud. She scrolled down through the manual, looking for information on what the weapon fired.

 

"Long story short," Laiserta began, drawing Naya's attention, "this thing is like nothing I've ever seen before."

 

"What do you mean?" Naya asked, her voice guarded.

 

"It doesn't fire any bullets, for starters," Laiserta said. "Or grenades, or shrapnel, or anything like a conventional weapon would," she elaborated. She turned and lifted the weapon again, this time pointing to a large area near the butt of the weapon. "This is a small electrical generator that it uses to fire a shot," she explained.

 

Naya seemed even more confused than before. "What does it fire?" she asked. She had never seen or head of a weapon that sounded remotely like this one.

 

"To the naked eye, nothing," Laiserta answered. "The generator pulls in particles from the surrounding fluid, such as the air around us, and breaks them down at a subatomic level into protons and neutrons," she said, pointing to a small vent above the generator block on the weapon. "Harnessing the energy released from that breakdown, it charges the generator which then has enough energy to fire individual protons and neutrons from the barrel of the weapon," she continued, pointing down the long shaft. "Those subatomic particles are fired with a force great enough to break apart molecular bonds at the atomic and subatomic level of its target. Then those broken apart pieces fly off and hit other molecules and break them down, too."

 

"By the gods," Naya exclaimed, her eyes widening as she looked at Laiserta. "This weapon could disintegrate any material that you fired at," she said breathlessly, realizing that 'any material' also included  _people_ .

 

"According to the manual," Laiserta said, nodding toward the laptop, "with a high enough charge and enough subatomic matter to fire at once, this thing can cause the sudden release of energy associated with the dissolution of strong force."

 

Naya almost glared at Laiserta, though her shock was not directed at her comrade. "You're talking about a walking _nuclear fission weapon_ ," the general spat in disbelief.

 

Laiserta nodded. "Yeah. _Now_ don't you wonder how spider-head got her hands on this?" Naya shook her head in shock, still in disbelief. "Anyway, the thing's busted so it's not firing anything anytime soon," Laiserta added.

 

"How do you know it's broken?" Naya asked, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.

 

"I tried firing it," Laiserta said flatly. Naya looked exasperated, but before she could say anything Laiserta cut her off. "Relax, I had the energy turned down super low. Besides, it has an electrical short from the generator to the firing chamber," Laiserta said, pointing to the location of the short. "I can see it with my eyes. I'll follow the manual and break it down so I can repair it. You never know when something like this might come in handy," she said, smiling broadly.

 

Naya sighed heavily, her eyes falling closed for a moment. "Should I ask what else you took out of the safe?" she asked drearily.

 

"Oh nothing," Laiserta said, still focused on the weapon. "She just had some bank cards and a couple bottles of fine liquor in there. Well, there was also a shielded case so I couldn't see what was inside but who cares about that when I've got this?" she finished, lifting the weapon again.

 

Naya slid down the seat until she was out from behind the table, and stood up. "I know I won't be able to stop you from what you're doing," she motioned toward the weapon, "so all I ask is that you be extremely careful not to damage any _one_ or anything."

 

"Don't worry, I just plan on fixing this and then putting it back," Laiserta replied. "Besides, what spider-head doesn't know won't hurt her," she finished with a smirk.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After landing their shuttle on an empty street in an abandoned city just over five hundred kilometers from the Rieve base, Trunks and Armada took flight and headed toward their ultimate destination. Armada cautioned that they shouldn't fly too quickly, so they didn't go full speed. Still, it didn't take long for them to reach their target.

 

As they approached the Rieve shipyard and it appeared before them on the horizon, Armada turned and looked at Trunks before giving him a hand signal that meant they were to start their attack. He nodded in the affirmative and they split up. She flew straight for the space fighters in their hangar to the west, while Trunks stopped and hovered high above the shipyard and began firing at the ships below. He was the temporary distraction while she targeted the fighters to destroy them before any launched. They could still easily destroy the fighters in the air, but it would save time if they could destroy them while they were still grounded.

 

Trunks could sense Armada firing on the fighter squadrons before he saw the explosions below. She destroyed both buildings and everything inside in short order, faster than even he anticipated. He kept up his work, firing ki blasts at various spacecraft and buildings below. It didn't take long before Rieve tried to organize a counterattack, and Trunks saw about three dozen people start flying up toward him from below.

 

He stopped his attacks on the buildings and ships and prepared to defend himself as thirty-some-odd people flew straight at him. He was set in a defensive stance when the first three men reached him, all charging at once. Unfortunately for them, they were far too slow to have a hope of landing a hit on Trunks, and he still hadn't even transformed into a Super Saiyan.

 

Once his enemies were within range, Trunks easily dropped the first three with single, well placed punches in their abdomens. They immediately fell to the ground, their auras dissipating from around them. The next group approached and he repeated the same procedure, using hard, precisely executed attacks to knock each enemy out of commission. He hit the first with a right handed hook in the jaw, uppercutted the next with his left fist, turned and slammed his right elbow into another chest, kicked one approaching from his left with his left foot on the inside of his thigh to stop him, then planted his left foot into the man's chest to knock him flying away.

 

Before he realized it, Trunks had cleared through the entire group that had approached him. He watched the last few fall before turning to look for his comrade. He lost track of where she was temporarily, until she appeared in the sky not far above the space fighter hangar. She was doing the same as him, swiftly and easily taking out the energy fighters attacking her. It made Trunks wonder where the man named Preva was. He couldn't have been one of the men that Trunks had downed, if Preva was supposed to rival Corvus in strength.

 

Trunks suddenly sensed a much larger power than any of the others he had sensed thus far. Something about it was different, unlike anything he'd ever encountered before in his life. He didn't have long to think about it, when the person bearing that power came flying up at him. Trunks readied himself for an attack, but no attack came.

 

Instead, the man Trunks assumed was Preva stopped in the air about three meters away from him. Preva was a tall, lean man, with medium brown skin and dark brown hair styled into a loose mohawk on top of his head, the sides shaven off. He had dark brown eyes the same shade as his hair, and he wore a blue jacket and pants not unlike what Trunks recalled Corvus wearing.

 

"I suppose I have to congratulate you on finding this place," the man spoke. His voice was calm and he had a half-smile on his face, which Trunks found odd. "We have never been attacked at this location before."

 

"Who are you?" Trunks asked, wanting to be absolutely certain that this was Preva. If it wasn't, then they might have a bigger fight than they planned.

 

"I'm Preva," the darker skinned man answered as if he were introducing himself politely for the first time to a new acquaintance.

 

Before the conversation went any further, Armada flew up and stopped beside Trunks, opposite from Preva. The elite fighter from Rieve closed his eyes briefly and smiled knowingly, as if he anticipated her presence. "You must be the famous Armada," Preva spoke. "If anyone was going to find us, it would be you," he added, still smiling as if he was having a jovial conversation.

 

“You've certainly earned your reputation as a one-woman-army,” Preva continued. He slowly turned his attention to Trunks, his eyes meeting with the demi-Saiyan's. “We don't know who you are, but you must be the one who defeated Corvus,” Preva spoke. “I am obligated to stop you here, but Corvus was my friend, so I will consider it an honor to avenge him.”

 

Preva settled into a defensive stance and began to unleash his energy, his hair and clothing whipping around him from the burst of his power soaring. “Two against one is an unfair fight, but I suppose there's nothing that can be done about that,” he said, his voice still calm despite his rising ki.

 

Trunks glanced to Armada briefly before turning back to Preva. “You would prefer to fight us one-on-one?” Trunks asked.

 

“You misunderstand,” Preva replied. “The two of you have no hope of defeating me. The scales are unbalanced in _my_ favor,” he finished, before suddenly charging straight at Trunks.

 

Trunks skidded backward in the sky; he had managed to block Preva's first punch by crossing his forearms in front of him. Preva hit harder than Trunks expected based on what he sensed of the Rieve fighter's ki, but something about that ki still felt off to Trunks. It felt like Preva was a much larger person than he appeared to be, as if his energy took a form around him. Regardless, Trunks knew who his enemy was and that the goal was to win, so he focused on that.

 

Preva backed off slightly and prepared to make another strike, when suddenly Armada appeared behind him and swung a hard right fist toward Preva's head. Preva saw her at the last moment, and was able to raise his right hand to block her hit. This left him open for attack from Trunks, who seized the opportunity and closed the gap between himself and Preva throwing several punches in succession. Preva was able to block a few hits with his left forearm but he couldn't stop them all.

 

As Trunks struck Preva, Armada wouldn't let up either. She mixed punches and kicks at Preva from his right side, keeping his right arm busy with her so he couldn't deal with Trunks. After getting hit enough to know it was time time to change tactics, Preva dodged hits from both Trunks and Armada and used his opening to fly backwards, away from the two mercenaries.

 

Deciding that he needed to deal with the weaker of the two so he could focus more fully on the stronger of the pair, Preva charged at Armada. She moved to dodge a punch from him, but instead of a punch he reached out and grabbed her arms. Preva pushed forward, and the two of them flew down toward the ground.

 

During their flight, Armada slammed her left knee into Preva's chest several times, but he took the hits without flinching. Preva prepared to charge a blast of energy in his left hand, and Armada sensed something odd about his power. Before Preva had a chance to do anything, Trunks appeared next to him and kicked Preva with his left foot, slamming it into the side of Preva's face, sending the Rieve enforcer flying away from them and into the rubble of part of the shipyard.

 

Trunks and Armada stopped in the air, not far from the ground of Belos below them. “You okay?” Trunks asked.

 

Armada nodded. “I'm fine.”

 

They both turned their attention back to Preva, as they sensed his energy moving again. Suddenly he came flying out of the rubble, charging at them at full-speed. Both Trunks and Armada had to jump back and dodge his attacks, as at the last second they realized he was now armed with a long metal staff. His reach was greater than theirs, even if he needed to use both hands to wield the weapon.

 

Preva then pressed forward after Trunks, and the pair flew up and away from the burning buildings below them. Trunks dodged several of Preva's swings with his staff, and with each attack Preva's speed increased. Trunks finally drew his sword, using it to block one of Preva's swings.

 

“I wondered if that was just for show or if you actually knew how to use it,” Preva said, gritting his teeth as he tried to force Trunks's sword backwards by pressing down harder with his staff.

 

“I don't do things for show, it's not my style,” Trunks replied. He turned his sword and moved at the same time, letting Preva's staff slide down and away before launching a powerful kick at his foe. Preva was able to dodge the kick, dropping just below Trunks before launching up at him, feet first. Trunks used his sword to parry Preva's kick, and the two of them separated once more.

 

Suddenly Armada appeared and charged at Preva, using a form that Trunks had seen recently. She threw a few punches at Preva, who easily dodged them, but Trunks quickly recognized that she wasn't truly trying to hit him. She made several more attempts to connect with her fists, and Preva moved away from each one. Finally having him where she wanted him, Armada moved as if she was about to kick Preva. He backed up and held up his staff to block, but she changed her movement at the last moment. Instead of hitting the metal staff, her foot veered underneath, landing a powerful hit against the inside of Preva's left forearm. His grip on the staff weakened, and Armada seized the moment. She pulled the lower end of the staff out of his hand and flipped it up, twisting it over Preva's head and away from his right hand, forcing him to let go.

 

Armada pulled the staff back and away from Preva, spinning it around once until she had her hands on it at the right position, and held it back in a defensive stance. Trunks had seen her use the technique against him when she was teaching him how to disarm someone using a long staff. He wanted to laugh; how unlucky for their enemy that he chose to use a weapon in which Armada happened to be nearly an expert.

 

Preva let out a breath, not much worse for wear but definitely looking frustrated. “I see,” he said knowingly, looking at Armada and then Trunks. Preva's eyes narrowed and he flew at Armada, his speed exponentially greater than it was before. As he pushed Armada backwards through the air, Preva leaned forward, his hands on the metal staff in between Armada's, and narrowed his eyes at her. “Hold on to the staff if you must,” he said, his power rising.

 

Armada's eyes widened as she finally realized what she sensed about Preva's energy that was different. She had no time to move, however, when suddenly his energy exploded from his hands in front of her, and she was caught in the blast.

 

“Armada!” Trunks yelled, flying after the two of them. If Preva had just unleashed his true energy, then Trunks knew he couldn't take this fight lightly. He transformed into a Super Saiyan, heading straight toward the site of Preva's energy release. He was stopped short however, when Preva appeared behind him and slammed his feet into Trunks's back, sending the Earthling flying down and into the ground.

 

After slamming into the ground, Trunks quickly picked himself up and looked behind him, up at Preva in the sky. Preva's countenance was grim, and he waved his hand at Trunks as if to say ' _come and get me._ ' Trunks narrowed his eyes and flew after his enemy, sheathing his sword.

 

The two of them exchanged a flurry of punches and kicks, blocking some and missing others. Trunks still had the advantage, as for every hit he took from Preva, Preva took three more. They continued at this pace for a short minute before Preva flew backward, letting some space sit between them.

 

Preva brought his hands together in front of him, and his energy began to collect between his open palms, in a blinding bright white. Trunks stayed put, ready to deflect Preva's blast. Preva's energy glowed, and he growled as he brought his hands up. The Rieve enforcer let out a scream as he fired his energy directly at Trunks. Trunks held up both his forearms, preparing to block the attack. Just as Preva's energy was about to hit his right arm, something slammed into Trunks from his right, knocking him flying away from the blast.

 

Trunks was almost dizzy as he flew through the air, confused as to what was happening. Preva's release of energy nearly made the night sky over Belos light up like broad daylight. Trunks couldn't tell what was happening when suddenly he felt his back crashing through several layers of concrete before falling down through one more and coming to stop.

 

When Trunks sat up, he was ready to yell at Armada and demand to know what the hell she was doing. She must have anticipated this, because the moment he opened his mouth she clamped both of her hands down over it. Trunks blinked in shock as she brought her left hand off of his mouth to make a motion indicating that she wanted him to be silent. He was frustrated, but he complied.

 

Armada turned and flew just above the floor of the dilapidated building they had landed in, heading over to a hole in a wall. She crouched behind the partial wall, looking up and out from the building. They had fallen all the way over the cliff-side and down into the remnants of the destroyed city below. She didn't see Preva approaching them, nor did she sense his energy moving from where she last saw him.

 

She turned and flew back over to Trunks, kneeling next to him. “He can't sense our energy,” she whispered. “We need to leave now, while we can,” she added.

 

“What?” Trunks tried to whisper but his voice came out louder than intended. “Why the hell should we retreat?” he demanded.

 

Armada grabbed his right hand and lifted his arm up, showing him his own forearm. Trunks's teal eyes widened in shock; his blue jacket was burned partially away and the exposed skin was blistered and bleeding, clearly very terribly burned. He hadn't even noticed the injury; he wondered if the nerve endings were completely burned away.

 

“We can't win,” Armada stressed, still whispering. “We have to run, there is no other option!” Trunks finally noticed the blood running down over her right eye from a cut presumably disguised by her hair, and a small burn on her chin. She had taken some damage in that blast, but nothing terrible.

 

Trunks looked into her eyes and saw that she was serious. “You know what he is, don't you?” he suddenly realized aloud.

 

“That's why I know that we can't win,” she answered, her teeth gritted in frustration. “We have to retreat,” she reiterated.

 

“No way,” Trunks replied. “We can do this. Besides, if we leave now we'll end up having to face this guy later on. Better to take him out now, while it's the two of us against just him, in a place like this where innocent people won't get hurt.” He paused a moment. “You know all of that better than I do,” he said, his voice concerned. What did she know that had her so certain they would lose?

 

“Armada, what is he?” Trunks asked in earnest. She stayed silent, but never broke eye contact.

 

“We can do this,” Trunks repeated. “We can beat this guy. But I can't do it alone. I need your help. Please,” Trunks pleaded. “Trust me.”

 

Armada stared at him for a moment before finally relenting. “Okay,” she said, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. “He's a d'partleidh,” she finally answered.

 

Before Trunks could ask her what that was, Armada gave him the courtesy of explaining it. “A d'partleidh is a special type of energy fighter,” she began. “Do you remember when we were scanned by the Hrimth police on Taydr, and they said we were both class B?” she asked. Trunks nodded; he hadn't forgotten that. “There are four types, or classes of energy that can be scanned by a latent energy mapper, or LEM tool. Class A is someone who doesn't hold any latent life energy. Class B is the majority type of energy wielder in the universe, you and I included. Class C was deprecated because it was later discovered to be a subset of class B. Class D is what d'partleidhs read as.

 

“They are an extremely rare type of energy fighter whose energy manifests mostly as light and heat. It doesn't condense the same way ours does, so it can't be blocked or deflected in the same fashion,” she explained. “I only ever ran into a d'partleidh once before. The only reason I didn't die was because I was able to escape,” she finished.

 

“Okay,” Trunks nodded, “so we can't get hit by this guy's energy. And you said he can't sense us?” Trunks asked.

 

“Most d'partleidhs can't sense the energy of fighters unlike themselves. It looks like Preva is the same,” she answered.

 

Trunks nodded again, his gaze drifting inward as he thought. He looked back up into his comrade's eyes. “We can do this. We just have to be careful.” Trunks suddenly winced as pain started shooting through his right arm. The nerve endings weren't burned away, and Trunks clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to move through the pain.

 

“Here,” Armada said before reaching down to open another compartment on her belt. She pulled out what looked similar to a small white capsule. Pulling his arm toward her by his hand with her left hand, she squeezed the white capsule, spraying a mist over the burns on his arm. “It's an anesthetic,” she explained, tossing the capsule aside once it was empty. “You're still hurt but you won't feel it, so be careful,” she admonished.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Preva heard movement in the sky and turned to find the two mercenaries had returned. “I thought you'd fled,” he said coolly, moving to face his enemies head-on. They said nothing to his remarks, only giving him a pair of stony stares in return. “So be it,” Preva said, slowly moving his arms up and around until he settled into an offensive stance. “I'll finish this now, for my friend,” he added, not waiting another second to charge at the mercenaries.

 

Trunks was Preva's target, and he began parrying Preva's attacks. Despite the gangster's words, his punches and kicks didn't feel as hard as they did earlier. Trunks's suspicion grew as Preva turned away from him a moment before launching a fist toward Trunks's face. The gangster stopped short and opened his fist, revealing a small bright white ball of energy which exploded in Trunks's face. Instead of finding himself injured, Trunks was blinded by the light and his vision turned completely white.

 

Realizing that his flash attack had hit its mark, Preva immediately charged after Armada. She was fast enough to block the hits he threw at her, so after attempting to attack her physically failed, he changed tactics. He didn't have much time to eliminate her before the more powerful of the duo would regain his sight and would likely not fall for the same trick twice.

 

Preva quickly charged balls of energy in both hands and started throwing them at Armada. She flew down and away, attempting to use the burning debris of the shipyard to take some of the hits for her. She was successful in dodging and redirecting Preva's attacks, but he was prepared for this. As she was still flying away from a few shots of energy that chased her, Preva suddenly appeared beside her and launched his assault.

 

Using both hands, Preva swung his fists down on top of Armada's back, sending her flying down into the same fiery rubble she was using to her advantage moments ago. No sooner had she hit the ground, Preva slammed down on top of her, his feet pressing into the center of her back. Armada was stunned for a moment, long enough for Preva to kick her in the ribs and knock her over onto her back. He reached down for her neck, but Armada managed to charge her energy and fire a ki blast directly into Preva's face.

 

Preva lunged forward through the smoke, snatching Armada up with both hands around her neck. Her attack had injured him slightly, and blood ran down from the right side of his forehead. Armada reached up and grabbed for Preva's arms, attempting to pry his hands off of her. Preva's goal was not to strangle Armada however, so he easily released his left hand, then proceeded to punch her in the face repeatedly.

 

It took a moment for her to get her bearings, but Armada brought her knees up to her chest and kicked forward with both feet, slamming into Preva's abdomen. It was enough of a strike that his grip on her neck loosened and she was able to flee his grasp. She didn't fly away, however, and instead used the opportunity to fire another ki blast with both hands directly into Preva's face. She realized that he wasn't very good at blocking her own energy blasts, probably because he adept at dealing with energy unlike his own.

 

Preva came out of her blast injured but overall not much worse for wear. He threw a flurry of hits at Armada, most of which she was unable to block. Instead of launching her with a punishing blow, he grabbed her by the black cloth of her armor and slammed her face-first into what was left of one of the buildings next to them.

 

Armada lost her breath, but sensed that Preva was about to fire his energy at her. She rolled and took off to the sky, just in time to avoid getting hit. She felt the wave of heat from his energy, its intensity nearly burning her as she fled. She didn't get far up into the sky when Preva appeared in front of her, another blast charged in his hands. Her eyes widened, and without enough time to flee she brought her own hands up and fired a counter-blast into his.

 

Trunks's vision finally cleared and he turned and looked up higher into the sky to see an explosion of white energy. He sensed his comrade had fired a part of the blast and was still in the vicinity of it. “Armada!” Trunks shouted. From out of the blast, he saw something dark go flying away at a high rate of speed. He realized it was Armada, and he watched as her body flew down toward the ground near the cliff-side on the other end of the shipyard. Her body hit the ground and bounced twice before falling over the edge of the cliff. His instinct told him to go after her and make sure she was okay, but the logical part of his brain told him that he didn't have time. He needed to focus on their enemy.

 

Trunks looked up to see Preva had moved directly over him, but still much higher in the sky. Preva's hands glowed white and he slowly moved them in a circle, up from his sides and over his head, leaving a white trail of energy sparkling in the sky. From within the halo of energy around him, Preva moved his hands into the center and fired with a yell. This time, Preva's energy was moving much faster than the first time he had fired on Trunks. It still wasn't nearly enough to catch up to him while he was a Super Saiyan, so Trunks quickly moved out of the way of the blast and flew up toward Preva.

 

Just as Trunks reached his adversary, he noticed that Preva's hands still glowed white and were giving off an intense heat. Trunks threw his first punch at Preva, who simply caught the demi-Saiyan's hand in one of his own. Immediately Trunks realized what Preva was doing, and yanked his hand away. Trunks shook his right hand before glancing down at it, to see that the outside of his fist had been burned in the shape of Preva's hand, and was bleeding.

 

Preva charged at Trunks, throwing dozens of punches and kicks. Knowing now that Preva was holding his energy in his hands to use it against him, Trunks was forced to avoid every one of Preva's attacks from his fists. With his superior speed, Trunks dodged each of Preva's punches and most of his kicks, blocking a few of the kicks with his left forearm. Preva's face indicated his frustration at failing to hit Trunks; he gritted his teeth while his eyebrows were tightened together over his narrowed eyes.

 

Preva growled as he tried to move faster to hit his target. His speed increased marginally but it still wasn't enough. He now understood just how Corvus lost his life to this man; he was in another class all by himself. The revelation didn't shock Preva so much as it made him sad. He now knew what he had to do. No matter what the cost, he would defeat this man and avenge his friend Corvus while protecting both of their honor.

 

Stopping his assault, Preva leaped back from Trunks, leaving ten meters between them as they floated in the air. Preva sucked in a long breath as he willed his energy to come forth from the center of his being. Trunks's eyes narrowed as he watched Preva building his energy, and the air around him started to hiss and steam as the temperature around Preva jumped higher and higher. Holding his hands out in front of him, Preva's body started to shake as he let out another scream. Trunks watched as the glowing energy in Preva's hands started to travel up his arms, to his shoulders. A white glow appeared on the center of Preva's chest, and traveled outward as well. Both lines coalesced at Preva's shoulders before continuing up, enveloping his head and hair.

 

The upper half of Preva's body glowed with a white outline, and his hands were almost completely white. Preva's shirt and jacket slowly started to burn away, and Trunks could see that Preva's own skin was starting to burn around his hands, the part of him that glowed the brightest. Above all, Trunks started sweating – the amount of pure _heat_ that Preva was radiating was maddening. Trunks briefly wondered if Preva's true power was so great that he couldn't even use it without killing himself. If that was the case, then Preva was at least willing to severely injure himself in an attempt to win this battle, if not sacrifice himself entirely.

 

An opponent who would embrace death to earn victory was a dangerous opponent, and Trunks steeled himself mentally. He needed to fight smart, and make sure he didn't leave any openings that provided Preva an opportunity to strike. He realized that this was exactly what Armada had been preparing him for – a fight that required absolute precision. He had come to understand that despite her lack of pure power, Armada was able to defeat so many enemies due to her masterful technical skill. He was grateful for the time she had taken to work with him to tighten up his technique. He made a mental note to thank her when the fight with Preva was over.

 

Preva suddenly launched another assault at Trunks, propelling himself forward with all of his might. Trunks dodged the first few attacks, but he could tell that Preva was more determined than ever. Needing the ability to parry Preva's attacks, Trunks reached up and drew his sword, blocking one of Preva's punches with the wide side of the blade. Preva paused for a moment, his eyes a glittering white over brown as he stared into Trunks's eyes. Preva grunted before swinging several more punches, and Trunks twisted and turned his sword to parry all of the punches away from him. With each punch hitting the broadside of the sword, sparks of white glowing energy sparked away from Preva's hands, like water droplets falling away from a larger spill of water.

 

Suddenly Preva stopped again, this time with both of his fists embedded into the broadside of Trunks's sword. He then opened both of his fists and immediately grabbed the sword, cutting his fingers on the edges but ignoring the pain. Preva let out a scream as his energy flared and his hands glowed even brighter, to the point where the light was almost blinding to Trunks. The heat intensified, and Trunks had trouble catching his breath for a short moment.

 

Trunks then noticed the distortion of the air above his sword due to the heat, and the metal started to glow from the heat of Preva's energy. The long blade of the weapon started to dip, and Trunks could feel the heat in the handle, despite the leather wrap around the hilt. Knowing what Preva was doing, Trunks yanked the sword away and dropped it, letting it fall to the ground below. Preva lunged forward, swing his fists at Trunks who flew backwards and dodged the hits. Trunks noticed the skin around Preva's knuckles had burned away, and his fists looked like those belonging to a skeleton, despite their bright white glow.

 

Deciding to change tactics, Trunks took a larger leap backwards in the sky to put some distance between himself and Preva. Charging his energy in his hands, Trunks began firing small but deadly ki blasts at Preva in quick succession, quickly filling the space between them with his own attacks. Preva flew down and away in response, doing his best to dodge Trunks's attacks, while firing a few of his own to cause some of his enemy's ki blasts to explode in the air instead of hitting their mark.

 

After dodging the last ki blast, Preva turned and looked up into the sky at Trunks. He quickly charged his energy in his hands before bringing them together and firing a large wave of energy at the Earthling. Knowing he couldn't block Preva's energy, Trunks decided to fire a blast of his own in response. Neither man was prepared for what happened when their energies met. Instead of exploding like Trunks had expected, his energy, the denser of the two, cut through Preva's energy beam cleanly and went hurtling toward the Rieve assassin.

 

Preva's eyes widened in shock as he realized too late what was happening. Unable to move in time, Preva was hit with Trunks's energy directly, and a large explosion enveloped the area. The explosion of their mixing energies produced a bright light that Trunks had to turn away from so his retinas didn't burn.

 

Once the light died down, Trunks looked back down to where Preva had taken the brunt of his attack. Trunks saw nothing, though he still sensed Preva's presence nearby. Even just sensing Preva was difficult for Trunks, since his energy didn't condense down to his body size and with traces of it all over the battle field, he couldn't pinpoint the mobster's position with any meaningful precision.

 

Preva suddenly reappeared slightly higher in the sky than where Trunks had last seen him. Despite the glowing of his body hiding a lot of his injuries, Trunks could see that Preva had been hurt badly by that attack. Blood ran down from the waistband of his pants, presumably from what looked like a large open wound just right-of-center on his abdomen. Preva's breaths were hard and ragged, but his eyes were hard and determined. He was hurt, but he wasn't ready to quit.

 

Preva threw both arms out to his sides, his palms open in the air. Unsure what he was doing at first, Trunks raised an eyebrow at the odd motion until he realized that Preva was gathering energy, but it wasn't within him. A glimmer caught Trunks's eye to his right, and he turned to see a large glowing ball of energy growing in the air twenty meters away from him. He looked to his left to see the same.

 

Preva yelled as he threw both balls of energy at Trunks, his arms crossing in front of him from the motion. The energy moved faster than Trunks expected, but he was still able to flee both blasts before they collided. He flew up, looking down at the blast as he flew up higher into the sky. Trunks looked for Preva, but the enforcer had disappeared yet again. Suddenly Trunks felt a sickening heat behind him, and turned around just in time to see a third blast like the first two he had dodged coming for him. He didn't have enough time to flee, so all he could do was fire a blast in return to try and deflect the attack. This time, as soon as his energy mixed with Preva's, it exploded, and Trunks couldn't escape the blast.

 

When the dust cleared, Trunks bore some injuries from Preva's attack, but nothing as bad as what his opponent had suffered so far. But the blast had one more effect that Trunks wasn't expected – the energy mixture exploding in such close proximity had disoriented him, and his vision was blurred while he felt dizzy, almost drunk.

 

Preva appeared in the air in just in front of Trunks, the long metal staff from earlier in his hands again once more. He glared down at Trunks, who barely looked up in time to see Preva land a punishing drop-kick against his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Trunks struggled to breathe as he plummeted to the ground below, landing flat on his back and creating a small crater where he landed. Preva immediately followed, and before Trunks had a chance to react, he felt a pang of pain in his lower right abdomen.

 

" _Deiviga Murippu!_ " Preva shouted, pressing the metal staff down even harder, despite it having already impaled his enemy's abdomen. A strange mist mostly blue and purple in color and glowing like the rest of him formed around Preva's hands which were still on the staff. The mist gathered around his fists before descending down the staff and into Trunks's body. The mist spread out over top of him, and Trunks felt a strange coolness descend over him.

 

It took only a moment for Trunks to realize what had happened, when his body suddenly would no longer respond to the commands from his brain. He struggled to breathe, and tried to lift his head. Trunks looked down at his chest and abdomen, finally seeing that Preva had indeed impaled him with the metal staff he had reappeared holding only moments again.

 

Preva let out a ragged breath, leaning forward on the staff before finally letting go and falling to his knees next to Trunks. The heat emanating from Preva's body was unbearable, but Trunks could do nothing about it. Preva struggled to hold himself up, his right hand against the ground in front of his right knee, while he lifted his left knee so his left foot was settled against the ground. He still struggled for breath as the glowing energy enveloping him slowly started to fade away, glittering pieces of white energy floating up and away from him, like tiny fireflies flying away from him.

 

With his energy dissipated, Trunks could see just how badly Preva had been injured. He was covered in burns and blood, even bleeding from the top of his head. Preva took several long breaths and swallowed thickly before looking over at Trunks, his head still hanging low. “I respect you,” he began, his voice genuine. “You are a formidable warrior. I am sorry that things had to be this way. Perhaps in another life we could have been allies, maybe even friends,” he added, coughing before letting his eyes fall away from Trunks's.

 

“I'm amazed that you can still breathe, even with difficulty,” Preva said, looking at Trunks again as his enemy struggled for air. “The holy paralysis is usually not so forgiving,” he added. Preva forced himself up to his feet, using the staff embedded in the ground as a hand-hold to pull himself up. “I am sorry my friend, but this is our fate,” he added, raising his right fist and preparing to end their battle with an energy blast.

 

Trunks suddenly felt a spike in energy that he hadn't been expecting. His eyes flew down toward his feet and the direction he sensed it. Despite laying on his back in a small crater, the landscape flowed down toward the cliff at the east, and Trunks saw Armada standing just at the edge of the cliff, a small ball of energy gathered around her right fist. Why didn't he sense her until now? Her energy didn't seem to have suddenly risen, but he hadn't noticed her.

 

Preva saw Trunks's eyes dart toward something in the distance, so he turned to see what the demi-Saiyan was looking at. Preva's eyes narrowed as Armada slowly marched toward him, a red sphere of energy formed around her right fist. Knowing that Trunks wasn't getting up any time soon, Preva started walking towards Armada.

 

“I thought that perhaps you'd already died,” Preva called out to her, waiting a response. Armada said nothing, taking off at a sprint toward Preva before she flew toward him with a speed he hadn't anticipated. Preva flew backward and up into the sky, Armada chasing after him. Preva expected her to throw her energy blast at him, but she persisted in chasing him. She was faster than him, and caught up easily. Instead of throwing the red orb of energy at him, she opened her fist, and holding the energy in her palm, she shoved it straight the center of into Preva's chest, never releasing it from her hand. Preva's eyes widened before the two of them were engulfed in a huge explosion of energy.

 

Trunks watched in horror from the ground as what felt like the entirety of Armada's power exploded in the sky above him. He gritted his teeth; he desperately needed to _get up_ and help her, but his limbs still would not obey him.

 

He noticed a stream of smoke falling down toward the ground, and after falling halfway the smoke faded away to reveal Armada's body. She fell into the dirt below unceremoniously. Trunks closed his eyes and clenched his teeth; it was still difficult to breathe from Preva's paralytic attack, but at least he wasn't feeling pain from his injuries at the moment. He struggled, willing himself to move. Just when Trunks thought he finally felt the fingertips of his right hand twitch, he heard a noise off to his right.

 

Armada had flown over to where Trunks was pinned into the ground, and fell to her knees into the dirt and rocks next to him. Trunks looked up at her and almost didn't recognize her; her face was covered in blood and dirt, like a waterfall of blood had come down from the top of her head across her forehead, over her eyes and down her nose. She had some burn marks and small holes in the black under-armor she wore, but otherwise her body didn't seem to be in terrible shape from what he could see.

 

“It's over,” Armada breathed out heavily. “Preva's dead,” she added for clarity.

 

“What happened?' Trunks asked, his voice tight. “What was that attack?”

 

Armada smirked. “An energy-bomb. Unfortunately it takes a long time to build up. Luckily for me, you kept Preva busy long enough for me to charge it.” She paused a moment in case he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. She looked at the metal staff that had impaled her comrade and kept him pinned to the ground.

 

Trunks noticed her eyes wandering. “I can't move,” he said. “Preva did something that paralyzed me,” he explained.

 

Armada nodded. “Don't worry, you're not dying here today,” she said, her voice carrying an oddly calm lilt. She reached down for her belt and opened another compartment, this time pulling out a larger piece of plastic than the last time. She reached up and bit the small end of the white piece of plastic she was holding, before standing up. She deftly pulled the metal staff up and out of the ground, tossing it to the side. She knelt next to Trunks again, this time twisting the plastic piece in her mouth and tearing the end off of it. She then squeezed the contents of the tube into Trunks's wound, filling it up with an off-white foam.

 

“What's that?” Trunks asked, thankful that he wasn't feeling any pain at the moment.

 

“Bio-foam,” Armada replied. “It will help keep your wound shut while we get you back to Ute for surgery,” she finished. She threw the plastic piece away and stood up, then reached down to pull Trunks up from off the ground. After struggling for a few seconds to get a decent hold on him, she settled for hanging him over her back and wrapping his arms around the front of her neck, letting his head hang over her left shoulder.

 

“We're going to see Dr. Rema, I take it?” Trunks asked, a smile forming on his face. He knew Armada was frustrated with the quirky Utian doctor.

 

“He's an asshole but he's good at his job, so yeah, we're going to see him,” Armada explained, lifting the pair of them off of the ground and into the sky.

 

Despite his head hanging over her left shoulder, Trunks could look at Armada's profile from the corner of his eyes. “Don't worry,” she said, glancing over to meet his gaze, “you're gonna be fine.”

 

Trunks closed his eyes, laughing at himself. What had happened to Armada? This wasn't like her. This wasn't what he would have expected her to say in this situation. Suddenly it came to him, and he realized what was going on – she was changing. Right in front of him, and he hadn't noticed until now. Trunks laughed at himself again, the sound coming out of his lungs garbled as if he were choking. She had been changing, and he... he had been the catalyst.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading everyone! I hope this chapter was as fun for you guys as it was for me to write. I really adore Preva, it's a shame he died. Anyway, first of all, today's lyrical content was provided by Hoobastank from their song “Right Before Your Eyes.” It's a great song, I hope you give it a listen. Speaking of music, next up is Armada's theme song! Continuing on what I started last chapter with revealing theme songs for each of the main characters, we have Armada's theme song: “Fix Me” by 10 Years. It really fits her and her personality, especially with the roughness of the theme of 'this is who I am and I'm happy with it.' So I hope you all will give it a listen, the lyrics really fit her character – except for the line with “small crimes,” Armada's crimes aren't small at all, hahahah!

 

Thanks again for reading, please leave a review and let me know what you think.

 

-Silvia

 

 


	23. Mission 15:  Executioner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Trunks and Armada are gone on a mission, Laiserta takes off to handle a personal matter, unknowingly falling into a trap set specifically for her.

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

_At fourteen years of age, a boy with bright red hair and light blue eyes stared as the gangsters and murderers around him filed through line to pick up their meals. Despite the rumors ranging from opulent and lavish accommodations to men living in the dirt, the place functioned in a very straight-forward, military-like manner. The boy had already picked up a tray and passed through the line. Now he stood among the tables, conversations filling the air with sound as he glanced around the mess hall. He needed to find a place to sit, but he had yet to spot an empty table. Despite passing his audition only a few hours ago, he didn't feel like he belonged. He wanted to ease into this new life, this new journey he was embarking on._

 

_He heard someone whistle, and his head immediately turned toward the sound. He saw a man with white hair standing up from his seat, waving his arms above his head. He shouted for the boy to come over, so the teenager complied. He didn't know what influence or pull any of the men in this room had over the Rieve family so the last thing he wanted to do was piss off the wrong person only moments after he had been invited to join the organization._

 

_Once he reached the table, he stood at the end while holding his tray of food, unsure if he should sit. Sure, he had been waved over, but that only meant that someone intended to speak with him. He didn't want to assume any more than that and find himself on someone's shit-list._

 

“ _Hey kid, that fight was pretty impressive,” the man with the white hair spoke excitedly. His uniform fit loosely, but the teenager assumed it was intentional. He didn't sense much energy coming from the man, but he moved with the grace of someone accustomed to fighting. “I haven't seen anything like that in a while,” the man finished, a large lopsided smile taking up most of the real estate on his face._

 

_The red-haired boy simply stood stone still, saying nothing in return. “Hey, it's okay,” a darker skinned man sitting next to the white-haired man spoke. “We're your comrades now. You can talk to us,” he added, flashing a small but genuine smile._

 

“ _Aw, shit,” the white-haired man cursed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I forgot to introduce myself,” he quickly corrected. “I'm Corvus,” he declared, pointing to his chest with his thumb. He then tapped the chest of the man sitting next to him with the back of the same hand. “And this is my buddy Preva. He's like you, you two will get along great,” Corvus added, while Preva waved when his name was spoken._

 

“ _I'm sorry, but I don't recall what your name was...?” Preva trailed off, hoping that the young man before him would answer the question._

 

“ _Ryan,” the fourteen year old answered flatly, his face betraying no emotion. “My name is Ryan.”_

 

“ _Well Ryan, nice to meet you!” Corvus nearly shouted, his excitement getting the better of him. “Have a seat,” he added, holding out his hand toward the empty side of the table nearest Ryan. Ryan nodded mechanically and did exactly as he was told, sitting down on the bench at the table opposite from his two new comrades._

 

“ _Welcome to Rieve,” Preva added, his tone genial but more restrained than his boisterous friend. “Based on your audition this morning, we are very lucky to have someone like you join us,” he finished, nodding at the end of his sentence to emphasize the meaning of his words._

 

“ _Shit,” Corvus cut in, glancing at Preva and then back to Ryan, “I've never seen anything like that before in an audition.”_

 

_Ryan was a bit confused by Corvus's statement. “How did you join?” he asked._

 

“ _Preva and I were born in,” Corvus quickly answered. “We haven't had too many auditions for an energy fighter before, and yours was pretty badass,” he added, still quite excited. “Anyway, stick with us kid, and you'll do fine. Preva and I will have your back,” Corvus finished with a smile, while Preva nodded in agreement._

 

Ryan Rieve had to sometimes stick his tongue in-between his teeth to stop himself from clenching his teeth so hard that he cracked them. He knew he would crack them from previous experiences doing so, and he didn't have the time nor the patience to deal with dental repairs in his current state. He needed to stay calm; the center of his chest burned as he desperately tried to chill his rage. He was thinking of his friends and the first time he met them, the memory bubbling up from nowhere only to frustrate him more. It did him no good to make important decisions while angry. As the elevator finally descended to its destination and slowed to a stop, he inhaled a long and deep breath through his nose before letting it out through his mouth. He was in control. He was in control of Rieve and of himself, and he would not, _could not_ let the mercenary unravel him like this.

 

The elevator doors opened and he strode forward, headed straight for Palmer's intelligence hub. Rieve members were scurrying around the floor, busy with their own tasks in the wake of the destruction of more than eighty-seven percent of the merchant fleet. Some noticed him walking through, but said nothing. Perhaps they could feel the anger roiling off of him; anyone who could sense his energy would certainly feel it.

 

A door in front of Palmer's hub opened as Ryan charged toward it, barely lifting in time to get out of his way. He didn't care who or what he barreled over; Palmer had called him down here with 'something big' and if it was what Rieve thought it was, he knew he wanted the information as soon as physically possible. He had the death of his friend Preva to avenge now, along with Corvus.

 

Palmer immediately turned toward his leader. “We got a scan,” he said briskly, then immediately turned to the computer console in front of him to bring up the information on the screen.

 

“We already have a scan of the mercenary,” Ryan spat. Palmer should know better than to waste his time like this.

 

“Not her,” Palmer looked at Ryan. “The guy that was with her,” he clarified.

 

Despite his foul mood, Palmer had managed to gain all of Rieve's attention. “Show me,” he ordered.

 

Palmer did as instructed, opening up the scan on the unknown energy fighter responsible for Corvus's and now Preva's deaths. “We got a full spectrum scan and were able to analyze the scan relatively quickly,” Palmer began. “To start, we still don't know who he is because his individual scan didn't match against any database we've searched so far.” Palmer expanded the scan data into three different charts, each showing an erratic line graph. 

 

Ryan Rieve gritted his teeth as he glared at his tech lead. “You brought me down here to tell me that you have nothing?” he demanded, clearly angry.

 

“I didn't say we had nothing,” Palmer quickly corrected. “We broke the scan down into the three zones for further analysis. Zone 1 was no surprise, it indicates that he's a class B energy-type,” Palmer stated, highlighting the chart labeled 'Zone 1.' “Zone 2 is his individual identifier, and we ran both his overall scan and his Zone 2 data against everything we have on file, and nothing matched to identify him individually. Zone 3,” Palmer continued, highlighting the last chart on the screen, “tells us where he's from genetically. Every race of energy fighters has their own specific data embedded in their scan, which is broken out as Zone 3.”

 

“So where is his home world?” Ryan demanded, hoping that this could at least lead them somewhere.

 

“We don't know, we didn't get any matches on Zone 3 to tie it to a location,” Palmer started slowly. Rieve opened his mouth to shout but Palmer cut him off. “However, we got a hit in our database. Fifty-one percent of this guy's Zone 3 matches a scan we have on file,” Palmer explained. His visage fell as he brought up the matching scan, as well as the photo of the person to whom the data belonged.

 

Ryan Rieve immediately recognized the face that appeared on screen. He slowly clenched his fists, and had to bite his tongue again to contain his rage. To think that he had been betrayed from the inside filled him with an especially toxic type of rage. After a few seconds, Rieve was able to gain control of his senses long enough to bark out one order to Palmer before he turned and left. “ _Find him,_ ” Rieve spat, venom dripping from his voice.

 

Palmer watched the  _comonstoro_ leave, staring at his back with a defeated expression. Turning his attention back to the photo on the screen, Palmer sighed heavily. The smiling face of his friend Dax shone brightly in the dim lighting of Palmer's tech lab.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 15: Executioner

 

 

-+-

 

 

The day after Trunks and Armada had left to go wherever the hell they went, Laiserta finished pulling on her black trench coat. She reached down and picked up her black metal staff and then lifted it up, securing it in its special pocket along the center back seam of her jacket. Lastly, she picked up the black bag she had packed with a few extra items she would need and slung it over her left shoulder. Laiserta spun around, ready to leave her room but was stopped by the Euphorian standing in the doorway.

 

“Hey,” Laiserta said in her typical jovial voice. Marice didn't respond, and Laiserta noted the concerned look on the teenager's face. “What's with that face?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Where are you going?” Marice asked, her voice conveying the same concern as her visage.

 

Laiserta closed her eyes and smiled while shrugging her shoulders. “Geez, you had me scared for a second,” she began, opening her eyes. Laiserta then walked over to Marice and set her right hand on the girl's head. “I'm just headed out on a job, that's all. Nothing to be worried about,” she finished, giving Marice's head a soft pat.

 

Marice wasn't buying Laiserta's lie. Marice's frown deepened, and her eyes seemed to glimmer in defeat. “Just be careful,” she said softly. “I'm worried about you. Don't do anything dangerous,” she added.

 

Laiserta stood back and set both of her hands on her hips. “Hah!” she mocked. “You've got it backwards; danger is afraid of me, kid.” Laiserta flashed Marice another smirk. “I'll be back in a few days,” she said before stepped around Marice and headed for the door to the ship.

 

Marice turned and watched Laiserta leave. Despite Laiserta's attempts to hide it, she could tell that something was wrong with her friend, ever since they left Taydr. She just didn't know exactly what it was that bothered the Taydran assassin.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After taking off from Bmyhad, Laiserta laid back in her reclining seat on the private shuttle she had chartered to take her to Taydr. The flight would be a few hours at a minimum, so she closed her eyes, intending to try and get a little rest. She had been listless since she was last in Hrimth and saw the news broadcast about Dr. Ibrahim three weeks ago. She thought she had kept up a pretty good facade, but apparently Marice had seen through it. The kid annoyed her sometimes, but she thought that the teenager was a good kid overall. Laiserta was a little sad that Marice was worried about her, but it wouldn't do anyone any good if she spilled the beans about where she was really going. Everyone would just feel sorry for her and look at her like she was a fragile, broken little thing and Laiserta _hated_ that. She didn't need it. She had come to terms with her own past a long time ago.

 

Letting out a deep breath, Laiserta relaxed her muscles and sank into the comfortable chair she was laying in.

 

 

-+-

 

 

_Xyros ached everywhere. It wasn't just the pain of the most recent surgery, although that was present – the bigger problem was her inability to move. Laying in bed for days and sometimes weeks on end, this time on her stomach with her head turned out to her right side, made her ache all over. Her body was rejecting everything that had been done to it, and she could understand. Her mind knew she couldn't fight her fate, however miserable it had become. But her body still refused to adjust, refused to give in to the wishes of Dr. Ibrahim and his team._

 

_She heard the other kids yelling and running down the halls. It must have been break time after lunch. She couldn't keep track of time when she was laying in bed like this. She couldn't sleep and her room was dark. She would float in and out of her own delirious lucid dreams, laying in bed and unable to move. This time they had worked on her back, which was why she was stuck laying face-down. They had her hooked up to more intravenous drips than Xyros could count. She knew they kept her fed, hydrated and alive. Unfortunately._

 

_Something moved in front of Xyros's eyes, but her vision was unfocused so she had to concentrate to look at what it was. She saw a pair of bluish-green eyes looking back at hers, followed by a cheerful smile._

 

“ _Hey,” Saya said softly, waving and smiling in front of Xyros's face. She knew that the other girl couldn't move in her current condition, which is why she approached the way that she did. “I finished my book,” Saya added, lifting up a small booklet of paper that she had folded in half and tied together at the center. “I brought it over to read it to you,” she added, smiling brightly. Her black hair that seemed to shine purple in the dim light of Xyros's room bobbed up and down as Saya laughed lightly._

 

_Xyros closed her eyes and smiled while nodding. Saya took a seat on the floor, her shoulders against the edge of Xyros's bed. Saya held her book up in front of her, making sure it was also within Xyros's line of sight. She began reading her story, and Xyros smiled, glad to focus on something other than the excruciating pain she was left in on a daily basis._

 

Laiserta's eyes shot open and she glanced up at the older man who had reached for her shoulder. He stopped short once her eyes opened, and then retreated. “We've arrived in Hrimth,” he announced politely. “It's time to disembark.”

 

Laiserta nodded, quickly picking up her and things and exiting the ship.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After making a quick stop at her apartment to gather some more information, Laiserta set out for the prison at Freising. She stood in the dark, outside as rain drizzled down from above. She had setup at an abandoned guard outpost along the southeastern side of the farthest and last fence around the facility. Standing under an awning, she avoided getting rained on while she used the magnification abilities of her eyes to watch the prison transport in the distance.

 

She watched closely as guards moved around the heavily armored vehicle that had been backed up to the prisoner transport dock on the south side of the building. Eventually she was able to catch a glance of the prisoner in question being wheeled into back of the vehicle; he was bound and strapped down into a special type of wheel chair. The information she was able to obtain about his departure appeared to be correct. However, in her research she discovered that the leaked data about him being transferred to Uslar was fake. He was being transferred, but to which prison was the mystery.

 

Laiserta had long studied Freising and knew that she had no chance of making it inside and killing the doctor. He would remain in prison for the rest of his life, and if he was going to remain in Freising then he would be out of her reach. The transfer was lucky for her, in a sense, but it also presented another problem. By herself, she would never be able to take the transport vehicle and the prisoner inside – it was too heavily armored and guarded. She needed to know _where_ they were taking Ibrahim. If she knew the destination, she may have a shot at taking him out. 

 

Laiserta heard a noise behind her, and she immediately spun around and attacked. It took her a moment to change her vision back to normal and focus on what was immediately in front of her, so as she waited for her eyes to adjust she threw several punches at the murky humanoid figure before her. The person counter-attacked, but Laiserta easily read his moves – she had seen them many times before, and knew exactly how to counter them.

 

Pulling one of the arms of the person away and pinning it behind their back, Laiserta planted a few well placed punches in their chest, and heard the satisfying sound of air rushing from their lungs. She spun around, dragging them with her, before pushing them up against one of the outside walls of the outpost, no longer protected from the rain by the awning she was standing under earlier. Holding tightly to their arm pinned behind them with her left hand, Laiserta grabbed the person by their collar and lifted them up slightly, her balled fist pressing into their throat.

 

Her vision finally refocused, Laiserta gritted her teeth and glared at the Taydran man she had pinned up against the wall in front of her. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded, clearly angry.

 

The man's medium length black hair was plastered down on his head from the rain, his bangs partially obstructing his green eyes. “Hey, you attacked me,” he began, his voice strained by her fist pressing into his throat.

 

“Don't give me that bullshit,” Laiserta growled. “you're TSIA. You use the same stupid close quarters combat maneuvers that they do,” she spat. Laiserta then laughed bitterly for a moment, the sound more sarcastic than anything else. “After all this time, they send someone after me? Haven't they learned by now that none of you assholes can beat me?”

 

The man grimaced, closing his right eye. “Okay, you got me,” he admitted. “I'm TSIA, or at least, I was until a few months ago,” he added. “Forced retirement,” he said, his voice growing hoarse.

 

Deciding that he was hardly a match for her, Laiserta released her grip on both his collar and his right arm, letting him fall unceremoniously to the ground. He immediately rubbed at his neck, and looked up at her. “Thanks for letting me go,” he said, flashing her a small smile.

 

“I dropped you, I didn't let you go,” Laiserta explained, glaring down at him. “Start talking,” she ordered. If she could get him talking, she could watch his vitals and see if he was lying. And if he was lying, she would have no remorse about putting a bullet in his brain.

 

“I turned thirty-one ten months ago,” the man explained. He laughed, “Did you know they have a retirement policy based entirely on age? It's garbage,” he complained. “I was still the top operator there, and could have taken out any one of the other guys. But noooo,” he emphasized dramatically, “suddenly I'm too old despite being more capable than people ten years younger than me. What a bunch of crap, right?” he asked, hoping to find a sympathetic ear. Laiserta merely glared at him silently.

 

He coughed slightly. “Anyway, I came here looking for you, because I heard about the leak on the news and thought you might show up,” he explained. A large smile spread across his face as he looked up at her, admiration shining in his eyes. “I mean,  _wow_ , you're a total badass and legend! I mean, the break in at Voltos? And the crazy shot you made at Den Mel? I just,” he stuttered a second, “I just had to meet you.”

 

Laiserta didn't notice any significant change in his vitals until he started talking about  _her_ , and then his body reacted to match his equally excited voice when he spoke about her. She didn't trust him any farther than she could throw him, but his body wasn't making any of the tell-tale signs of someone lying. She scowled; she hated the idea that someone was following her every move because they thought she was cool. “Well now you've met me,” Laiserta began, “so piss off and get out of here.” She turned and walked away from him, back over to her original spot under the awning.

 

The man stood up and tried to brush some beads of water off of his chest and thighs. “Well, there's also a very specific reason I'm here,” he said, walking toward Laiserta once more.

 

She turned and narrowed her eyes at him. He reached inside of his jacket and she instinctively drew one of her pistols, pointing it directly between his eyes.

 

“Whoa,” the Taydran man raised both of his arms, including the hand that was now holding a small data chip that he'd retrieved from the inside of his jacket. “Hey, I don't have any weapons on me, you can check,” he added. Laiserta quickly changed vision modes and looked him over. He didn't appear to be lying; she found no weapons on his person. She lowered her pistol and holstered it.

 

“You're here for Dr. Ibrahim, I know that,” the man started again. “More importantly, you're here _right now_ because you don't know where he's being transferred to. But I do,” he added, making a motion in his right hand which held the data chip. 

 

Realizing he may be lying or that his information may be bad, Laiserta still couldn't let the opportunity get away. “What do you want for it?” she asked, her voice hard. She despised the idea of paying a ransom for the information, but whatever number he threw out she was certain she could afford it. She had a nice bit of money saved up from before she started running with spider-head and wonder boy. She didn't want to spend it like this, but executing the doctor was far more important to her than all of the money to her name.

 

“Just to come with you,” he replied, a sly smile creeping into his features again. “I mean, to say I got to work with _Death's Shadow_ on a job, that's worth more than anything else I could dream of!” he exclaimed, his green eyes still lit up brightly as he looked at her. 

 

Laiserta rolled her eyes.  _Ugh, not one of these idiots from the guild again,_ she thought, beyond annoyed with the way he used her stupid guild nickname that she never picked. “I'm not even a member anyway!” Laiserta shouted, frustrated with the smiling clown standing in front of her. Still, she needed the data that he had, on the off chance that it was accurate.

 

Laiserta shifted on her feet and let out an exasperated sigh. “...fine,” she said quietly, hardly wanting to drag this idiot along with her. “You give me the data, and you can come with me,” she finished.

 

“Not so fast,” he replied. “You need me to stay with you if you want this data,” he added. “I'm the only one who knows the encryption key, and it would take approximately two years with a large enough computer system to crack the encryption.” He smiled. “I'm not dumb enough to hand everything over before we even leave, you know,” he added, his face turning sly. 

 

Laiserta grimaced. Did the universe hate her? She knew she had done some bad things, but they were mostly to bad people. So why was she being taunted in this way? Was Fate a callous bitch, or what? Laiserta closed her eyes and clenched her teeth and fists for a moment. This idiot was just smart enough to be a pain in her ass, and as much as she wanted to just punch him in the face and knock his teeth out, she needed that data. Even if there was only a one-percent chance that the data was accurate, she couldn't let it slip away. She didn't know when, if ever in her lifetime, she would get another chance to take out that bastard doctor.

 

She sighed again, opening her eyes. “Okay asshole, you've got a deal,” she begrudgingly agreed. The man in front of her made an excited motion with his arms and smiled brightly. The sight made Laiserta want to punch him even more.

 

He walked over to where she stood under the awning. “You won't regret this,” he said excitedly, putting the data chip away inside his jacket again.

 

“You have no idea how much I _already_ regret this,” Laiserta grumbled through gritted teeth, regretting her decision from before she even made it.

 

The idiot in front of her wiped his bangs out of his eyes with his right hand, and then held the same hand out to her. “I'm Nassas Reine, nice to meet you!” he said excitedly, smiling broadly at her.

 

Laiserta simply scowled at him before turning and walking away into the rain. “Hey,” Nassas called out to her, “you're supposed to introduce yourself!”

 

“You already know who I am,” Laiserta threw over her shoulder. “Let's get moving.”

 

Nassas smiled to himself, before running to catch up to Laiserta and falling into step beside her.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Nassas Reine stepped into the chartered shuttle that Laiserta had told him to meet her at, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. He whistled, “This is a pretty swanky ship,” he commented upon boarding. It was a small ship, but a luxury liner. He could see into the back where the master suite was, but instead chose to walk over to the tiny bridge. Laiserta was already seated at the piloting console, apparently prepping the ship for launch. 

 

Nassas dropped his bag to the ground and fell into the chair next to Laiserta, quickly lifting his legs and propping his feet up on the console in front of him. “You got the honeymoon suite for us, I see,” he teased her, the same smirk he constantly wore present on his face.

 

“Your blood will blend in easier with the red décor,” Laiserta replied flatly, still focused on her task of preparing the ship for launch. She started the engines and all the doors sealed shut with a hiss.

 

Nassas gripped his chest with his hands over his heart. “You thought of me?” he asked, his voice tight as if he were about to cry tears of happiness.

 

Laiserta could feel her own blood pressure rising with the idiot next to her trying to do everything he could to get under her skin. Unfortunately for her, his tactics worked, as she wished to strangle him at the moment. “I agreed that you could come with me, I didn't promise you wouldn't leave with broken bones and missing teeth,” Laiserta bit back, sparing her temporary comrade a dark glance.

 

“Well,” Nassas said, smiling sheepishly, “I thought we would get to know each other more before moving on to _that_ topic, but just so you know, I can take it rough,” he replied, a blush creeping over his nose and cheeks.

 

Laiserta's face fell into flat lines as her mouth shrunk into a tiny scowl. “What is it?” Nassas asked in earnest, his eyes opening up wide.

 

“I'm trying to convince myself to _not_ kill you right now,” Laiserta answered darkly, turning in her seat to glare at Reine.

 

He raised his hands up in front of him in defense. “Aw come on, you don't really want to hurt me... right?” he tacked on at the end, a bit nervous now.

 

Laiserta turned away from him and back to the piloting controls. She gripped the controls and pushed one lever forward, the engines of the ship roaring louder. She then switched to another pair of joysticks , taxiing the ship down the public runway in front of them. “You're here now because you're a necessity,” she said to Nassas. “Once this is done, and your necessity goes back to zero, I can't make any guarantees for your safety,” she said darkly, her face betraying no emotion.

 

Nassas laughed to himself, his own gaze turning away from her. “Hahah, I wouldn't expect any less from you,” he said softly, more to himself than to her.

 

Thirty minutes later, after launching from Taydr and clearing the gravity well, Laiserta configured the ship's auto-pilot to take them to Ostia, another world in Federation Alliance space. “By the time we get there,” Reine continued explaining their destination, “Ibrahim will already have been moved into his new cell. So we should be able to confirm via prison surveillance footage that he's there, just in case you don't believe me.”

 

Laiserta leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and closing her eyes. Nassas blinked at her a few times, confused by her actions. “Uh... Lai?” he queried. 

 

“What?” Laiserta replied, her eyes still closed.

 

“You okay?” he asked. His visage fell, and he seemed genuinely concerned.

 

Laiserta opened her eyes, her mouth tightening into a scowl. She turned to look at the man beside her, her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “I agreed that you could come with me in exchange for the information you have on Ibrahim's exchange. I didn't say I'd be your friend and chit-chat with you and make you feel okay,” she said, adding a large dose of sarcasm into the last part of her sentence. “This is a job for me, and I don't give a shit about you, so you can cut out the baby-bullshit,” she spat.

 

Nassas appeared hurt at first, before his expression quickly faded into a sly smile. “Ah, I should have known that approach wouldn't work with you, anyway,” he said, his tone relaxed. “But I figured it was worth a shot.”

 

“I know a lot of spies like you, all of them much better at this than you are,” she explained, and Nassas looked annoyed. “So don't bother wasting your time and mine with your stupid manipulative bullshit, because I won't fall for it,” she finished, turning away from him again.

 

“Fair enough,” Reine said and shrugged. He paused a moment, before asking one more thing he just had to know. “So... I gotta know,” he began, his voice low, “why haven't you joined the guild?”

 

Now  _that_ was a topic that would set Laiserta off.  _ “Mio den verkkanna tos,” _ Laiserta swore in Taydran, gritting her teeth in frustration.

 

“That's not very nice,” Nassas quipped, understanding exactly what she had said.

 

“What is it with you idiots and the assassin's guild?!” Laiserta demanded angrily. “Shit, you're a member, aren't you?” she asked, realizing that would be why this clown was so insistent on discussing the stupid guild.

 

Nassas closed his eyes and smiled, before flipping his bangs out of his eyes and opening them. “Nassas Reine, The Derelict Blade,” he announced himself happily, before reaching down to the knife holstered on the inside of his left thigh and pulling it out. He spun it around in his hand quickly before grabbing the dull side of the blade in his fingers to stop the knife's motion. “At your service,” he added with a small bow of his head.

 

“That,” Laiserta began flatly, “that is _exactly_ why I hate the guild. That dumb shit.”

 

“It's not dumb!” Nassas countered defensively. “The guild is cool,” he said, pouting as he put away his knife.

 

Laiserta sighed and Nassas continued speaking. “Besides, they gave you a ridiculously cool name. I mean,  _Death's Shadow?_ Everyone in the guild kills people, but only the most badass of the badass get a name including the word 'death,'” Nassas explained excitedly. “The stuff you have done is legendary,” he continued, motioning excitedly with his hands as he spoke. 

 

Laiserta grimaced and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with her right hand. “This is so embarrassing,” she said aloud.

 

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Reine cut in.

 

“I'm not embarrassed about me!” Laiserta shouted angrily. “I'm embarrassed for you!”

 

“I'm not embarrassed,” he answered honestly. “I don't get what your problem is.”

 

“You should be!” Laiserta replied in a yell. “And it's called second-hand embarrassment!” she explained, her face feeling warm. Was she blushing? She couldn't remember the last time she had felt like this. “You're so much of an idiot that it makes me feel bad on your behalf,” she explained bitterly.

 

Nassas's eyes lit up. “You feel sorry for me?” he asked excitedly, smiling broadly.

 

“No!” Laiserta shouted, then quickly realized she made a mistake in denying his question so quickly. He smiled happily at her, his eyes shining with unshed tears. 

 

“I never thought this day would come,” he said wistfully while gazing at her.

 

“Ugh!” Laiserta growled and turned away from Reine completely. “Shut up before I kill you and mess up this opportunity,” she said, her tone lower but still frustrated.

 

Nassas kept smiling at Laiserta as his face settled into a more contented expression. “Okay,” he agreed. He'd finally met the woman he had admired from afar for  _years_ and it was going much better than even he expected. He'd give her a break for now, at least.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The trip to Ostia lasted through the night, and the pair of Taydran assassins landed in the early morning. Still needing some time to plan the operation, Laiserta found them a place to setup shop and Nassas finally revealed the full extent of the data he had on the prison. Using a tool on the same data chip, Nassas was able to hack into the security system of the prison at Piciaullas, not far from where they landed on Ostia. Through the security system's cameras, they were able to confirm that Ibrahim was brought directly to the prison and transferred inside. Satisfied, Laiserta used the prison's blueprints and other information that Nassas brought with him to plan the operation. He had already acquired an ID badge for the prison, so that covered him as far as getting in. Laiserta assured him that she was fine, and he would see when they left the next evening.

 

After their plan was complete, Laiserta decided to rest before they left after dark. Nassas sat nearby her sleeping form, next to a window in the bedroom of the small house they had rented. The sky was dark as rain poured down, a summer thunderstorm in the southern hemisphere of Ostia. As Nassas looked out the window at the storm, he rolled a small blade over and over again through the fingers of his right hand, and old habit of his when he was pensive while waiting for an operation to start.

 

He stopped moving the knife as thunder crashed again, and the sky flashed with lightning. He turned and looked over at Laiserta's sleeping form. She was lying on her side and facing him, but he could tell by her breathing that she was asleep. With her eyes closed and her hair pulled back away from her face, she looked like any other beautiful woman on Taydr. But she wasn't the same as anyone else, and that was what drew him to her.

 

They had far more in common than she knew, but he also knew that she wouldn't care so he didn't bother with the details. Like her, he didn't want people feeling sorry for him if they knew about his past. He'd been lucky, though; despite being a war orphan, he had at least landed in an legitimate orphanage, even if it wasn't in the nicest part of Hrimth. Laiserta was not so fortunate. His position in TSIA enabled him to read more of the official story of what happened, so he knew far more of the gory details about what happened to Laiserta and the other children kidnapped by the Lorraine Medical Company.

 

He didn't,  _couldn't_ blame her for exacting revenge. While their operation was eventually busted and all of the people involved tried and imprisoned, Taydr did not enact the death penalty. It was still on the books, sure, but no one had been put to death in Taydr for several hundred years, ever since the nation had joined the Federation Alliance. The thought of those people essentially living out their natural lives, even while incarcerated, could certainly cause pain to those who were victimized. Nassas Reine would never stand in the way of anyone getting their own personal revenge against those people, least of all the woman he'd been infatuated with since he was a teenager. 

 

Something moved in his pocket, knocking him out of his thoughts. Reine reached down and pulled out the new phone that he was assigned before leaving, hoping it was finally a reply from his superiors. Unfortunately the notification just stated that signal had been lost, which wasn't surprising given the storm. Nassas sighed before shutting off the phone completely and pocketing it once more. He wouldn't be taking it with him when they left in a few hours anyway, so he may as well conserve the battery while he was out of signal range.

 

Reine's eyes drifted back over to Laiserta's sleeping face. He didn't like lying to her, but he also had a job to do. Perhaps one day when he  _really_ retired, he could meet her again. He laughed at himself; she'd probably just shoot him in the face.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Well after dark and near midnight, Nassas Reine and Xyros Kikulade made their way toward the outer perimeter of the Piciaullas prison on the planet Ostia, on foot. Having already hidden their rental car, they approached the fence around the outside of the western edge of the prison's property. Laiserta walked in front, with Nassas following behind. She stopped short of the fence, and grimaced. “The fence is electrified,” she said softly. They both wore radios on the inside of their ears so there was no need to speak loudly to be heard. 

 

“I've got this,” Nassas replied all too happily. He stepped forward, and reaching into one of the small packs he had strapped around his right thigh, pulled out a small dark object. He approached the fence, and slid his hands against each other, breaking the object in his hands down into four parts. Carefully, and without touching the fence directly, he held each one of the pieces a centimeter away from the fence. The pieces then latched onto the fence. He moved in a high arc, and once all four pieces were in place, Laiserta could see what he had done. The object was a sophisticated electromagnet which modified the path of the electricity running through the fence. In this case, he placed the four magnets in a pattern resembling a door, which left the fence inside the arc of the magnets safe for Laiserta to grab and rip open.

 

After breaking apart the fence carefully to let them in but not be obviously disturbed from a distance, Laiserta and Nassas ran toward the outer wall of the prison, hiding under the cover of darkness. Once they reached their destination next to the wall, Laiserta pulled a small pistol from the bag hanging on her back. Nassas smirked as she loaded the special ammunition into it. “You're not going to make that shot,” he said softly. Her plan was to shoot two cameras at the top of the inner wall once they climbed to the top of the outer wall, where they currently stood. The distance was over a hundred meters away. The cameras were tiny, and the special pistol she was using to fire the equally special gelatin bullets couldn't possibly be that accurate from that distance.

 

“Watch me,” Laiserta said, handing him the pistol while she retrieved a rope from her backpack. She tied a loose loop in the end before throwing it up and snaring the top pillar of the wall. She pulled the rope tight before using it to scale the wall, with Nassas following behind her.

 

Once Laiserta reached the top ledge of the outer wall, she held her left hand down to Nassas. He handed her the pistol again, and her head and left arm just barely over the wall, Laiserta found the two cameras she needed to block out for their infiltration to be successful, and fired. Two quiet shots from the pistol each made a dull thud, and Laiserta watched closely as both hits landed home. The gelatin bullets hit the lenses of both surveillance cameras and exploded in a small mess, blotting out the vision of the cameras.

 

Laiserta hefted herself up on top of the wall and reached back to help Nassas up and over. “Lucky shot,” he whispered as she dragged her rope over to the other side. Laiserta merely flashed him a toothy smirk as Nassas grabbed hold of the rope and rappelled down the other side of the wall. Laiserta untied the loop in her rope and grabbed on to both open ends as she descended the wall. Once her feet were on the ground, she pulled one side of the rope all the way down, dragging the back half along with it. She rolled up the rope and hung it over her left shoulder.

 

Knowing they didn't have much time, Nassas nodded to Laiserta before taking off in a sprint. Despite running, Nassas knew how to step quietly, so his footsteps barely made a noise as he ran for the last fence. Laiserta followed after him, also stepping as softly as she could, but due to her weight she couldn't run as fast as Reine while maintaining their stealth. Once she arrived at the final fence next to him, Nassas had already used another set of magnets to clear a space of fence no longer electrified. He pulled out his knife and quickly cut through the chain link of the fence, allowing them to step inside.

 

They had reached a door on the outer wall of the actual prison itself. The door provided access to the guard towers around the building. After putting away his knife, Nassas Reine knelt in front of the door. The lock was physical, not digital, so he needed to retrieve his lock-picking kit from a small pouch on his belt. After finding the right lock-pick, it took him only a matter of seconds to unlock the door. They knew from their research that this door would not set off any alarms once they broke in, so they quickly entered the prison and shut the door behind them.

 

Nassas and Laiserta found themselves inside a windowless corridor, leading to another door at the end. Laiserta quickly scanned for guards, and noticed one coming toward the other end of the hall. “We've gotta hurry, there's a guard coming,” Laiserta warned her comrade. While Laiserta wound up her rope as small as she could and stuffed it into the special backpack she wore, Nassas took off his gloves and flipped them inside-out.

 

“How long?” Nassas asked softly, watching the door on the other end of the hall.

 

“Four seconds,” Laiserta responded before pressing on the inside of her left forearm. Her camouflage activated and she shimmered before disappearing.

 

Nassas used the special grips outlining the inside of his hands and fingers on his gloves to hold on to the brick wall on one side of the hallway. Holding his hands in place, he jumped and pressed his feet back against the wall behind him. With no time to stabilize himself, he started walking up the wall toward the ceiling.

 

The door at the far end of the hall opened and guard walking casually through. He never bothered to look up, but Nassas held his breath just to be sure. Laiserta had stayed on the ground, near the door the guard was headed for. Once he was within reach, Laiserta grabbed him, placing one hand over his mouth to stop him from screaming. She quickly stuffed a small piece of plastic with a needle on the end into his neck, and after a few seconds the guard's eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp.

 

While Laiserta had subdued the corrections officer, Nassas had scaled back down the wall and dropped the last few feet to the floor. He looked to the distortion next to him, knowing it was Laiserta. “The uniform's a little large for you, but it should work,” she said. Nassas knelt down and set about stripping the guard of his uniform.

 

A few minutes later, Nassas was now dressed as a corrections officer for the Piciaullas prison. He dusted himself off and set the ball cap upon his head before removing the other officer's ID badge and clipping on his own with his picture. Nassas casually strolled down the hallway and used his ID badge to open the first door. The system acknowledged his access and he heard a click, letting him know that the door unlocked. “Would you look at that?” Nassas said lowly, glancing to where he thought Laiserta was standing just behind him.

 

“ _Stay focused,”_ Laiserta whispered, and Reine heard her mostly through the radio in his ear. Nassas led Laiserta through the door before she pulled it closed behind them. Laiserta placed both of her hands against the door near the handle, and suddenly pressed in as hard as she could. Checking the damage with her eyes, Laiserta was satisfied that the door was damaged enough it would prevent anyone from finding the guard inside, at least for a few hours, giving her plenty of time to complete her mission and flee.

 

Nassas had memorized exactly where he needed to go. They had broken into the prison in, unfortunately, the central security wing. They needed to walk around to the opposite side to head to the cell block that Ibrahim would be housed in – solitary confinement. Reine walked slowly, but not too slow to draw attention. Laiserta followed behind him, hidden by the camouflage of her special suit. They casually passed by six guards heading in several different directions. Some of them nodded to Nassas, who nodded back. When he finally reached their destination on the other end of the building, Nassas swiped his badge in front of the security control at the door. The control blinked green and the door unlocked, allowing him to open it and head through with Death's Shadow in tow.

 

Now the Taydran pair had to head through a cell block before they would finally reach the intersection to the solitary confinement block. Nassas looked up to see that from the floor, there were at least six floors of prison cells on each side of him.  _“Move,”_ he heard Laiserta whisper into his radio. He nodded and started walking.

 

Luckily for Laiserta and Nassas, most of the prisoners in the cell block were asleep. Walking down the long corridor with prison cells on either side was turning out to be much easier than either of them had anticipated. Once they reached the far end and Nassas swiped again to get out of the cell block, the noise of someone coughing stopped him. He turned to his left to see an elderly man sitting behind the glass of the last cell before the exit.

 

The elderly man was wearing a special visor that Nassas recognized was often worn by people who were blind but chose not to have an eye transplant. “Hm,” the man said softly, “now there's something new. We don't get visitors of your type very often,” he said, looking from Reine to the spot behind him where Laiserta stood.

 

Nassas smiled and winked at the old man, bringing up an index finger in front of his mouth to indicate he should be quiet. The elderly prisoner returned the smile and laughed. Nassas held open the door so Laiserta could walk through in front of him, and he saw a glimpse of the distorted field in front of him when she passed by.

 

Once they were out of the cell block and back into another section of intersecting hallways leading to other buildings of the prison complex, Nassas let out a breath. Saying nothing, he started walking again, this time headed down a few hallways to the entrance to the solitary confinement cell block. They saw no other guards on this trip, and quickly found themselves at the door leading to their ultimate destination.

 

Nassas casually swiped his badge in front of the card reader, not giving it much thought until the light flashed red before turning back to its neutral amber. Nassas narrowed his eyes and swiped the badge again, and again the light turned red. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. He didn't want to keep trying to get in and draw attention to himself, if the two denials weren't already sending guards their way.

 

“Stay here,” Laiserta said softly. “I can get in.” She walked a little farther down the hall, past the door into the cell block. Nassas wasn't sure what she was doing until he saw a ventilation shaft on the wall near the ceiling.

 

Laiserta took a quick look around, using her eyes to look through the nearby walls into other hallways. She didn't see any guards headed their way, so she opened the special backpack she wore made of the same material as her suit. She pulled out the rope from earlier, and looked up. Seeing a group of pipes running along the ceiling, she threw one end of the rope up and over the pipes. She pulled down on both ends, trying to gauge if the pipes would hold her.

 

Nassas glanced back down the other end of the corridor before turning back toward Laiserta. “Do you need a boost?” he asked with a smirk.

 

“I weigh more than six times what you do,” Laiserta spat, still whispering, “I'd crush you.”

 

Nassas laughed softly to himself. “If there's any good way to die, it's underneath a beautiful woman,” he teased.

 

Laiserta ignored him and began climbing her rope, holding on to both ends. Within moments she was at the ceiling. She reached out and pulled off the metal ventilation grate. It was heavy, but not nearly heavy enough to slow down someone with augmented strength like Laiserta. She held on to the grate with one hand and jumped from the rope, landing in the tall ventilation shaft. She pulled the rope in behind her before pulled the ventilation grate back into position.

 

The ventilation ductwork was tall enough for a person to stand in, specifically to make it easier to maintain. It made Laiserta's job of breaking into the cell block much easier. Using her eyes to look through her surroundings, she followed the ventilation shaft until she was over the solitary confinement cells. She looked around and quickly saw her target, several cells down from where she currently stood. Laiserta felt her heart skip a beat, knowing she was this close to  _him_ after all this time. She still felt like a small, weak child, afraid of what Dr. Ibrahim would do next. She clenched her fists; this wasn't about her. She needed to focus. She drew in a long breath and let it out quickly.

 

Despite the time, Ibrahim was sitting on his bed in his cell, wide awake. The time difference between Taydr and Ostia had thrown the doctor off, and though it was the middle of the night, he was not able to sleep. His thoughts were busy when suddenly a small grate fell from the ceiling, clattering against the concrete floor of his cell. The doctor looked up just in time to see a dark figure drop down from the ceiling and stand before him.

 

Her red eyes almost glowed in the dark, and he would recognize his own work anywhere. “Xyros,” the doctor said softly, smiling at her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?” he asked. He already knew why she was here, but he wanted to hear what she had to say.

 

Laiserta glared at the man, still seated on his bed as she stood towering over him. She reached into her backpack and pulled out two items. The first was one of her pistols, and the second item was a silencer that she quickly screwed into the end of the barrel of her weapon.

 

Ibrahim closed his eyes and smiled. It was the same smile that haunted Laiserta's dreams on bad nights, often accompanied by the screaming of her friends. He opened his eyes and looked back up to her. “Your eyes are still as beautiful as the day we gave them to you,” he said wistfully.

 

Laiserta finished preparing her weapon and transferred it to right hand. She cocked the pistol and pointed it directly at Ibrahim, aiming it between his eyes. “I suppose it was only a matter of time until you came for your revenge,” Ibrahim said softly. He made no move to hide from her. There was nowhere for him to go. He had heard about the others, who were all executed in their cells. He knew it was her, and now it was his time to die at her hand. Besides that, he was an elderly man; he couldn't fight against her even if he wanted to.

 

“This isn't about me,” Laiserta said flatly, her voice hard and cold. “This is for all of the other kids that you tortured and killed.”

 

“Yet you are the one here,” the doctor replied, his voice still even and calm.

 

“That's right,” Laiserta answered him. “I am here. I'm here for all of the others who couldn't be. I'm here for all of those whose screams I still hear in my dreams, for all my friends who dared to hope for some kind of life outside of the hell you put them through, and didn't make it. I got off easy,” Laiserta continued. “I survived because you didn't do much to me. So I owe it to the rest of them to send you to hell, personally.”

 

Ibrahim closed his eyes and laughed briefly. “From the life you have lived, Xyros,” he began, opening his eyes and looking directly into hers. “I expect you will receive the same fate as I on the other side.”

 

“That may be true,” Laiserta replied, her eyes and voice as cold as ever. “That's why I always keep my pistols on me, so that when I die and wake up in hell, I'll have another bullet to put into your brain.”

 

The prisoner laughed yet again. “Killing me won't change anything. You know that,” he said softly, still smiling at her.

 

“It won't,” Laiserta agreed with him. “But I can't let you live. See, after I got away from that hellhole, I used to think that good and evil was bullshit. They were words too easy to use to describe people when the truth was much more complicated and nuanced. And depending on your perspective, a hero could also be a villain. Good and evil didn't exist, just people who did bad things and people who didn't. But as I grew older, I realized that evil does exist, it's just very rare. And you, doc, what you did – inflicting intentional pain on people who couldn't defend themselves against you, who had no choice in the matter, for pride, glory, or money, it doesn't matter the reason – that's evil. And for the sake of all of the souls that you tortured,” Laiserta's voice cracked and she paused a moment. “I can't let you live,” she finished in a breathy whisper.

 

Ibrahim merely stared back at her, with the same eyes she used to see when she was a child. He smiled at her, and Laiserta fired, the bullet from her weapon leaving a hole in the center of the doctor's forehead. He fell backwards in his bed, his body slumped against the far wall just enough that his head was propped up slightly. Laiserta's hand shook for a moment, and she fired again, shooting six more bullets into the doctor's brain.

 

Her hand shaking even more, Laiserta lowered her pistol and let out a breath. She felt sick, like she wanted to vomit. She looked down, her gaze turning inward as she tried to get her emotions under control.

 

Outside the cell block, Nassas felt something vibrate in his pocket. He realized it was the guard's radio, and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. Looking at the screen, Nassas's eyes widened. A silent alarm had been set off by the death of the doctor in solitary confinement. “Lai, a silent alarm was triggered by the doc's death, we've gotta go,” he said quickly.

 

Laiserta heard Nassas's voice, but his words meant nothing to her. She heard the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears, and nothing could penetrate the noise. She looked at the doctor's bloody face, her mind feeling like it was out of her body, watching herself as she stood in the prison cell, unmoving. She heard some more noise in her ear, when suddenly something came through.  _“Lai! We have to go now!”_

 

Snapping back to reality, Laiserta turned and looked out toward Nassas's location. She could see guards coming from several different directions. There wasn't time for her to go back through the ventilation system. They had to run. Turning to the special glass that provided the front of the cell she stood in, Laiserta knew what she had to do. She stuffed her pistol back into her backpack. With a yell, she ran the two steps she had toward the glass, pulling back her right hand to throw a punch into the center of the glass. The glass shattered under the force of her punch, falling to the ground in a hail of small pieces of glass, like crushed ice cubes.

 

Laiserta ran out of the cell and down the corridor toward the locked door where Nassas stood. “Move away from the door!” Laiserta shouted into her radio. She charged as hard as she could at the door and lowered her left shoulder, slamming into the metal door. The force knocked the door off of its hinges and broke the lock apart, spewing parts all down the hallway.

 

Nassas blinked at the metal door which was now embedded into the opposite wall from where Laiserta had busted it open. He turned and looked at her, the cloaking functionality of her suit turned off for the moment. “Holy shit,” Nassas said, still in shock at what he just witnessed.

 

“Let's go!” Laiserta shouted, taking off in a sprint down the hallway away from the cell block. Reine finally snapped out of his daze and dashed after her, the pair headed back the way they came.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Luckily for Laiserta and Nassas, there was mass confusion at the prison when the alarms went off. They were able to escape without incident, except for two guards that Laiserta shot. Nassas noticed that she shot them in their shoulders and legs, specifically aiming to disable them but not kill them. Once they were out of the prison, returning to their chartered ship taking off from Ostia was incredibly easy. Nassas figured that by the time they had already left Ostia's star system, the guards still hadn't figured out what had happened. He smiled to himself; he and Laiserta made a great team.

 

After the ship was set to auto-pilot, Nassas tried to make small talk with Laiserta, but she merely ignored him and went to the ship's bedroom to lay down and get some rest. He never heard what the doctor had said to Laiserta before she killed him, but he'd heard her half of the conversation. He knew that Laiserta had been victimized by the doctor and just exactly how bad it was, but he didn't know it still affected her so deeply. She seemed perfectly well-adjusted to him. Perhaps Laiserta was just someone who carried her own demons silently, disguised behind smiles and laughter so that no one knew. 

 

Nassas was in the bedroom to retrieve several of Laiserta's belongings as she slept. On his way out, he stopped and looked down at her face. She was sleeping on her right side, her arms tucked up under her head beneath her pillow. He knelt down next to the bed, and carefully brushed a few stray hairs out of her face and tucked them back behind her left ear. He leaned forward, closer to the top of her head, and hesitated a moment. He finally decided to place a soft kiss on the top of her head, against her black hair, a kiss so light she may never have felt it even if she was awake.

 

Nassas rose from his knees and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind himself. He headed to the front of the ship and sat down in the bridge, setting down Laiserta's black trenchcoat and a tablet she had with her on the piloting console in front of him. Nassas then reached down to his own pack on the floor by his chair, and pulled out a small sewing kit. He set the sewing kit on the console in front of him next to the tablet, before picking up Laiserta's jacket once more. He turned the item inside-out, searching for a suitable pocket. He found that her right pocket had a little extra fabric around the edges where the pocket had been sewn together.

 

Despite the dread that rose up in him at his task, he set about removing the stitches in the bottom of the pocket. With the stitches removed, he reached down into pack again and pulled out a small metal tracking device, the size of a button. He placed the device inside of the pocket and stitched the edges of the pocket together again. The first task complete, he stitched another closure in the pocket, this time much closer to the original stitches that he had torn out. When he was done, he examined his work. 

 

The purpose of his mission was to plant a tracking device on Laiserta's person, to hopefully lead him back to the other mercenaries. The truth was that Nassas wasn't necessarily the one to go after them; once he had the device planted and confirmed it was working, he was to turn the information in to his superiors, and to whoever else wanted it from there.

 

Noticing that Laiserta's jacket had some minor tears in it in several spots, Reine decided to repair the damage. It wasn't part of his mission, but he thought he would do something nice for Laiserta, even if she never noticed. As he set about stitching up the small tears he found, Nassas picked up Laiserta's tablet and powered it on. He began looking through her files for anything of interest, while he worked on her jacket. Eventually he stumbled across a file that caught his attention.

 

He put his needle and thread down, and lifted the tablet up so he could read the information on the screen more closely. He had found a shipping manifest of some sort, but the odd thing was that it was written in Taydran, and written to be intentionally vague about what was being shipped. He flipped through a few of several similar shipping manifests, until the last and most recent one caught his attention. 

 

The manifest mentioned Alphonse Drouet by his code name, which Reine recognized. The items being shipped were not mentioned directly, but based upon the grammar used, he knew it was something dangerous or hazardous. The manifest also mentioned something about orders from a  _devoult lerche_ , which could translate into a few different terms, but one of them was ' _admiral_ .' He checked the dates on the shipping manifest, and a conversation floated up from his memory. 

 

“ _I had a mission handed down from Admiral Malketh. Had to rescue these three activists, kids really, who'd crossed into some bad territory in the Republic.”_

 

Nassas's eyes narrowed and his face grew stern. Drouet had been on a mission assigned by Admiral Malketh at the same time the shipping manifest indicated that items were on the move. He didn't know what this was about, but his intuition told him that whatever it was, someone was up to no good. He retrieved a data chip from his belongings and inserted it into Laiserta's tablet, copying the files over to his data chip so he could take them with him. He had a feeling that Drouet knew more than he was letting on, and Nassas was determined to find out the truth.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Nassas Reine was lost in thought but still managed to follow behind Laiserta carefully through the spaceport. She had docked at a spaceport orbiting Taydr to deliver the ship she had chartered. The two of them were now headed down toward the public shuttles. Or at least, Laiserta was headed for the public shuttles. Nassas followed her, his chest tight. Something about this whole mission now seemed off to him. He wondered if he was too suspicious, but then he remembered how many times his intuition had gotten him out of one scrape or another because it was always right. He suddenly found himself in the unenviable position of trusting the target he was after, while doubting the commander who had sent him on the mission.

 

“You're going to get on a shuttle back down to Taydr,” Laiserta said as she walked, not bothering to look back at the man with her. “Because I'm not leaving until you're already gone, so you don't follow me,” she continued, still walking.

 

Nassas was listening to her, but her words weren't reaching him. He clenched and unclenched his right fist, over and over, as he battled himself internally over what to do. Yes, he knew his admiration for Laiserta was clouding his judgment, but at the same time he refused to let his loyalty to Taydr also cloud his judgment when it came to his own allies. Someone was up to something and had gone to great lengths to hide it, which meant it was definitely not sanctioned, and most likely illegal.

 

Laiserta had stopped walking and so did Reine, though he was hardly paying attention to her. She turned around and looked at him, since he didn't respond to her last command. “Hey,” Laiserta said, snapping her fingers to get Nassas's attention. He still didn't look up at her or say anything. “Okay, whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning to walk away.

 

Without thinking, Reine leaped forward, grabbing Laiserta's left arm and pulling her back toward him. She instinctively turned toward him, about to yell at him for suddenly grabbing her. Before she realized what was happening, Nassas kept pulling her toward him as he moved forward, his eyes cast downward away from hers. Laiserta was too confused to react in time. Nassas's right hand came up to hold her left cheek as he  _kissed her._

 

Laiserta was stunned and unable to move for a brief moment before she regained her senses. She harshly pushed Nassas away from her before throwing a mean right hook right into the center of his face, connecting with his nose.

 

Nassas stumbled backward from the force of her punch and fell down, landing in a seated position. He looked up at Laiserta in surprise, who glared at him while sporting a bit of a blush across her cheeks and nose.

 

“You stupid prick!” she shouted. “If I ever see you again, you're dead!” She immediately turned and stormed off, heading down a long corridor to the lower level in the spaceport.

 

Nassas watched her walk away until she was out of sight. Despite the pain in his face and the blood running from his nose into his mouth, he smiled. He was able to grab the right pocket of her jacket and crush the tracking device between his fingers, while she was distracted by the kiss. Nassas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. The tightness he felt in his chest was telling. He _liked_ her, and he knew it was only going to be trouble from here on out because of it.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, I love any feedback at all, feel free to be critical as well, I won't get mad. So initially I wanted to post this along with the next chapter, but I realized I wanted to break out some content from the next chapter into two chapters so there isn't too much going on in a single chapter. For that reason, I'm posting this update now while I sort out the next two chapters. Hopefully it won't be a long wait for the next update. :]

 

Now, for Laiserta's theme song! Very appropriate since this chapter was all about her. I promise that in the future, there will not be any chapters without Trunks in them at all. Ahem, anyway, the theme song. I've had trouble picking a song for Laiserta, to be honest, because she's hardly ever serious about anything, hahaha. But I'm going to go with the theme from Bayonetta 2, “Tomorrow is Mine” for Laiserta's theme. The lyrics are a good match for her playfulness, though admittedly she's not as cool as Bayonetta (WHO I ADORE, by the way). So go give “Tomorrow is Mine” a listen, it's a great track.

 

Thanks again for reading, and please leave a review!

 

-Silvia

 


	24. Interlude:  Lowell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Armada return from the mission on Belos to destroy Rieve's merchant fleet, but they're not exactly welcomed home with open arms.

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Bulma didn't want to go out and scavenge for electrical components that day, but she had no choice. She needed a few specific items for the time machine that were preventing her from continuing work on the flight system—something in the critical path to completion of the project, which wasn't too far off now. And she refused to be deterred, even by the cyborgs.

 

Sunbury, a somewhat-rural community outside the northeastern edge of West City had been attacked by the cyborgs two days ago. Trunks went to fight them, and while he escaped with his life afterward, he was still severely wounded. Bulma would usually take her son with her while scavenging for parts and materials, but she didn't want to bother him. He had been out for most of the previous forty-eight hours and she intended to let him rest. The cyborgs didn't hang around the locations they attacked for days afterward. Well... they did on a few occasions, but Bulma was convinced that she would be fine.

 

Regardless, Bulma was pulling apart an old air conditioner in an alley in downtown West City when she heard and explosion followed by some faint screaming. Her head immediately snapped up and turned in the direction of the sound. Not far off in the distance she could see android Seventeen flying in the sky and firing down on the city. She desperately needed the materials she was trying to pry free from the broken air conditioning unit, but she needed to live to see the time machine completed. Bulma snatched up her tools, shoving them into the brown messenger bag she wore draped across her body. She dropped her socket wrench, her hands shaking from nervousness. She picked it up and managed to shove it in the bag a second time and took off running.

 

Bulma knew better than to try and run down Broad Street; she would be an obvious target as she crossed the bridge to the west. Instead she ran toward the bridge, and at the last moment diverted slightly to the north side of the bridge and ran down the concrete embankment. After just a few steps, Bulma lost her footing on the steep decline and fell forward. She managed to bring her arms up to protect her face and head just as she fell to her knees. She leaned over, trying to adjust her fall into a roll. She was successful, but her bag full of tools smacked against her with each roll and knocked the wind out of her.

 

Finally Bulma stopped rolling when she fell into the scenic Scioto Mile, a very shallow area of the Scioto River that ran through the heart of West City. Bulma sat up and coughed; the water was dirty and burned her lungs. Wasting no time, she stood and tried to wade through the water as fast as she could move. The water wasn't very deep, only rising to her hips, but it was enough to slow her down significantly. She moved south to wade underneath the Broad Street bridge, hoping to stay out of sight. She heard more explosions behind her, and they sounded like they were getting farther away at a pace faster than she was moving.

 

Once on the other side of the river, Bulma scrambled up the opposite embankment. Despite her rubber-soled sneakers having a good grip against the concrete, the incline was steep and required every last ounce of her energy to run up. Finally at the top, Bulma didn't stop despite how her lungs ached and her legs burned. She turned to the north, running down an alley two blocks before heading west again, this time running along a street in an old residential neighborhood.

 

Just when Bulma thought that perhaps she had been lucky enough to escape, she saw Seventeen land in the street a few blocks ahead of her. Panicked, Bulma quickly turned and fled north again, this time between a pair of two-story houses. She stopped slightly once she stood next to the wooden privacy fence of one of the houses. She moved until she could see through a gap in the individual wood panels making up the fence and looked down the yards of all the houses set on the same street. She saw an explosion only six or so houses down, and the back yard was blown away.

 

Bulma's eyes widened and she took off running once more. She tried to hold her bag of tools against her chest so it wouldn't sling around and let the tools inside bounce off of one another, creating a clattering siren to lead Seventeen to her. She kept running north, across another two residential streets while still staying between houses along each block. After three blocks, she found a yard without a fence that had a dilapidated shed in the back yard. She ran over to the shed and pressed her back up against it.

 

Her chest heaved and her muscles burned; she still held the bag of tools to her chest. She was drenched in the dirty water from the river, but she didn't care. Survival meant doing anything necessary, and she was prepared for that. After a few agonizingly long seconds to catch her breath, Bulma slowly moved toward the back of the shed, past a small door on the side. She peered around the back of the shed, looking for any sight of Seventeen.

 

Suddenly a pair of hands shot out from behind Bulma, one wrapping around her arms holding the bag against her chest, and the other reaching up to cover her mouth. Bulma tried to struggle but felt herself pulled backward, someone holding her back against them as they moved her. Bulma tried not to panic; the hands holding her didn't feel cool like Trunks described the touch of the androids. Within just a few short moments, Bulma was dragged backward through the side door of the distressed wooden shed before her back was slammed against the inside wall of the shed next to the door.

 

The door was kicked closed as a man stood before Bulma, his left hand still covering her mouth while his right hand gripped both of her hands on the bag pressed against her chest. He released his right hand, bringing it up to his mouth to hold his index finger up to his lips, indicating that she should be quiet. His hand shook, and Bulma wasn't sure what to make of it. He had teal eyes matching his long teal hair, and she didn't see the same malice in his eyes that she had seen in the past in other people. Society was falling apart and besides worrying about the androids, Bulma had to protect herself from other humans who felt like they could take whatever they wanted... including her. She had fought men off on more than one occasion, though she never told her son about it.

 

The man released her mouth and backed away from Bulma before turning completely. The shed was small and cramped with an old mower and some bicycles. He stepped away from her, walking over to a rifle leaning up against the shed in the corner. He picked up the rifle but kept it pointed to the ground. He approached the wooden door he had dragged Bulma through, looking through a crack in the wood to the outside.

 

Bulma slowly reached behind her back, her hand slowly gripping the handle of the taser she kept on her person. She didn't trust anyone except her son and Mia, and if she needed to incapacitate or kill this man to get away, she was not averse to violence.

 

Before Bulma could make a move with her taser, she heard something hit the ground hard just outside the shed. “I could have sworn I saw him come this way...” she heard a young man's voice outside the shed. The voice was familiar but it took her a moment to place it because it had been a few years she she had been close enough to android Seventeen to hear him speak.

 

The scientist held her breath and looked at the teal-haired man occupying the shed with her. He had both hands on his rifle now, and while it was still pointed at the ground he seemed ready to fire. His hands were no longer shaking. His eyes met hers, and they suddenly seemed much harder than they had moments ago.

 

“Whatever,” Bulma heard Seventeen mutter, followed by a familiar sound. It was the whoosh of air as someone took off flying at a high rate of speed, something she was witness to her son doing more times than she could count now.

 

The man in the shed stepped slightly closer to the crack in the door, looking up into the sky. “He's headed back east,” the man said softly, his deep voice almost hard to hear at such a low level. He stepped back slightly and turned to Bulma, his eyes widening when they landed on her.

 

She had her taser out and leveled at him, ready to fire squarely into his chest. He immediately dropped his rifle to the dirt floor and held his hands up. “I'm sorry for scaring you,” he said softly, clearly still nervous that Seventeen may return. “But you were about to get us both killed if you led him here.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Bulma demanded, her voice calm and even. “Franklinton has been abandoned now for years,” she added, referring to the residential neighborhood just west of downtown West City in which the pair of them now stood.

 

“I just arrived here from North City a few weeks ago,” the man answered plainly. “My friend and I tried to find somewhere to hole up but ended up separated. I'm trying to stay near the center of town so I have a better chance of picking him up on radio if he gets close,” the man explained, his eyes dimming a bit. His lips fell into a sad scowl, but not one directed at Bulma – one that seemed to originate from his very soul.

 

Bulma understood immediately that his story wasn't implausible. North City had, by all accounts, been obliterated by the cyborgs just over a month ago. And if he was from out of town, it explained why he was hiding out in Franklinton – he wouldn't know that was the most commonly hit location by the androids when they attacked West City.

 

Regardless, her eyes narrowed at the man in front of her. She studied him for a moment, and in the dimly lit shed, she could see that his long teal hair went well past his shoulders though he kept it pulled back in a low ponytail, save a few strands on each side of his face. He had to be her age, maybe a little older – she could see it in the wrinkles in his face. He had stubble on his face as if he hadn't shaved in a week or two, but not a full-blown beard. And he was tall and lanky, probably from not having enough food to eat.

 

Bulma didn't trust him. She fired her taser, hitting him in the center of his chest. The man grimaced and fell as the two nodes in his shirt delivered a significant shock. He shook a few times after hitting the ground, before finally his body was still. Bulma let out a sigh of relief before tearing the lines from the end of her weapon. She gave him one last glance before leaving the shed and heading home.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Interlude: Lowell

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Your injury missed damaging your internal organs, besides some bruising from the impact,” Dr. Rema explained to Trunks while the demi-Saiyan sat up in his hospital bed. “So you're going to be fine,” he added.

 

“Thank you Dr. Rema,” Trunks nodded as he thanked the doctor. “I already feel like I'm fine and I'm ready to go,” Trunks added. He did feel fine. Armada brought him back to Ute and he was taken into surgery right away, which was early yesterday morning. The sun was still high in the sky for early afternoon, and Trunks felt completely fine. His right forearm still had a bandage on it from where his burn was treated, but Rema had already told him he could remove the bandage tomorrow.

 

“Good, then I'll have you discharged,” the doctor added, his mood much more jovial than the last time Trunks had seen him as a patient. Rema laughed; “You are a lucky son of a bitch, you know that?” he asked, wearing a smirk eerily similar to Armada's.

 

Trunks laughed. “Yeah, sometimes I think so.” Dr. Rema nodded and turned to leave, when a sudden thought struck Trunks. “Hey, Dr. Rema?” he called out.

 

Alten Rema had only taken two steps before his patient called for him. “Yes?” the doctor asked, his eyebrows raising up over the rim of his glasses.

 

“I know you wouldn't give them to Armada, but I have to ask,” Trunks started, and hesitated a moment. “Can I have Marice's medical records?”

 

Dr. Rema seemed to think for a long moment before responding, which was unusual for the quick-witted doctor. He finally relented with a soft smile. “Sure Trunks, I'll give them to you. I trust that you at least have Marice's best interests at heart.”

 

Trunks opened his mouth to thank Dr. Rema again when he realized that the doctor had called him _Trunks_ and not Toran, the name he had given the doctor previously. “Uh,” Trunks started, trying to think of how to play it off like Dr. Rema just made a mistake.

 

“Don't bother,” the doctor laughed. “Your friend Marice accidentally spilled the beans last time she was in. So it's nice to meet you, _Trunks_ ,” the doctor stressed his name, clearly enjoying how he had unnerved his patient.

 

Trunks laughed nervously. “Wait, Marice came to see you again?” he suddenly asked. “When?”

 

Rema smirked yet again. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. I'm not revealing that to you.” With that, he turned and headed for the door.

 

“Hey, you already told me she was here!” Trunks called out after him.

 

“Take it easy Trunks, I'm sure I'll see you again soon,” Dr. Rema threw out over his shoulder as he left the room.

 

Trunks sighed, but still wore a smile on his face. The doctor was a bit odd, but Trunks could tell that he was a good man. Since he was now alone, Trunks decided to get up and get changed back into his clothes to leave the hospital. He rose from his bed and walked over to the small counter on one end of the room where his clothes were folded neatly and his boots were on the floor with his socks stuffed inside. Trunks picked up his clothes first and walked over the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

As he dressed, and finally got a chance to pick up his blue jacket, Trunks's eyes widened in surprise. He lifted up the jacket and stared at it, wondering why the right sleeve wasn't burnt like it was when he arrived. Preva's attack had burned through the material of his denim jacket and severely burned his arm. There was no sign of any damage. He suspected it would be washed, but he didn't realize the hospital would repair it. He was greatful; perhaps Rema had seen it and taken care of it? He wasn't sure. Regardless, he finished dressing and headed downstairs to the first floor of the hospital to be discharged.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Laiserta was attempting to take a nap in her room after returning earlier that morning when Naya walked in and started talking. "Lai, I need to discuss something with you."

 

"Can't it wait?" Laiserta grumbled, still tired from her trip to Taydr-Ostia-Taydr and back.

 

Naya stood beside the bunk beds where Laiserta laid in the bottom bunk, her left forearm covering her eyes. "I don't think you want to wait on this," Naya explained, looking from the tablet in her hands back to her comrade.

 

Laiserta muttered something under her breath before sitting up and moving to the edge of her bed, planting her feet on the floor. She looked up at Naya, not so much annoyed as just exhausted. "What is it?" she asked, lacking her typical enthusiasm.

 

"I had been suspicious of the job that the captain went on with Trunks," Naya began, "so I started doing some research through some intelligence networks I still have access to. As it turns out," Naya continued, tapping on the screen of her tablet before turning and handing it to Laiserta, "while our comrades were gone, the interstellar mafia knowns as Rieve suffered a significant loss of their merchant fleet in the Republic."

 

Laiserta's eyebrows came together as she read the information on the tablet, and then she looked back up at Naya. "You don't really think it was them, do you?" Laiserta asked, her tone concerned.

 

"I know it was," Naya quickly replied. "Because when I did some more research, I found that someone has been attacking Rieve over the past several months. Rieve has identified them as an infamous blonde haired mercenary by the name of Armada and an unknown man with her that just so happens to have long lavender hair," Naya continued. "They have put out word to bounty hunters and other allies of theirs to report any sightings of the pair, and offered a reward of two million betas if anyone can capture them alive and bring them to Rieve"

 

"Holy shit," Laiserta said slowly, the shock of the news finally hitting her. "Spider-head's got more balls than even I gave her credit for," she said, handing the tablet back to Naya.

 

"Two people attacking Rieve is a bit of an undertaking, even for energy-fighters," Naya added, holding the tablet close to her chest. "What concerns me more than them going after Rieve in general, is _why_. We're talking about two people taking on a criminal syndicate larger than many nation-states," Naya finished, her face showing displeasure and concern.

 

"That's a good point," Laiserta replied. "Spider-head is crazy enough to go after them, but I don't see wonder boy jumping on board so easily. Something's going on."

 

"And I intend to find out," Naya replied, narrowing her eyes. Trunks was due to return any time now after his surgery, and Armada was out as well. She would be ready when they returned to get to the bottom of this mess, no matter what.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Just over a week had passed since the cyborgs had last been spotted in West City. Bulma never told her son that she was nearly caught up in their latest attack, and instead let him think she'd been home the whole time he had been recovering. They were out together this time, to pick up some groceries over on the east side of the city. There were farms out to the east that managed to bring produce into the city, and for that Bulma was thankful. She and her son didn't have time to farm, between her work on the time machine and his defense of West City, among others.

 

Bulma finished paying for produce and picked up one bag alongside her son who was carrying the rest. They turned and began walking away when something caught Bulma's attention.

 

"You..." she heard a strangely familiar deep voice say, sounding a bit out-of-sorts.

  
Bulma stopped and turned toward the sound, to see a man about her age with long teal hair standing a few feet away from her. "It's you," Bulma said in shock, blinking a few times as if she was seeing an apparition.

 

"Mom?" Trunks asked, curiously looking from his mother to the gentleman standing near her.

 

The man looked at Trunks and then Bulma before he smiled. "He has your eyes," he said, smiling sadly.

 

Bulma was a bit shocked, and didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I'm Trunks," her son stepped forward and introduced himself. He set the bags he was carrying down so he could reach out and offer a handshake to the man standing in front of him.

 

The teal-haired man reached forward and took Trunks's hand in his own. "Nice to meet you Trunks, I'm Lowell," he said with a nod and a genuine smile.

 

Trunks turned and looked expectantly at his mother, who seemed to stare at Lowell for a long moment. Trunks finally cleared his throat to get her attention, and her eyes darted over to his. He made a slight motion with his head toward Lowell, and Bulma immediately understood what he meant.

 

"Oh geez, I'm sorry, I'm Bulma," she finally said, reaching out to shake Lowell's hand as well. Now that she could see him in broad daylight and get a better look, she saw that he was a bit taller than her son, though Trunks probably still had some growing to do since he was only sixteen. Lowell's long, straight teal hair was even longer than she thought it was, with the wide swaths on each side of his face hanging down past his collarbone.

 

"So you two have met but didn't introduce yourselves?" Trunks asked, looking from Lowell to his mother and back.

 

"It's complicated," Bulma started, pausing as she thought about how to explain it to her son without him freaking out about it.

 

"She tased me," Lowell added, smirking with a slight laugh.

 

"Mom!" Trunks turned and looked at his mother incredulously. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

 

"To be fair," Lowell cut in, drawing Trunks's gaze, "she had every right to do what she did. I don't blame her," he explained, still smiling slightly.

 

"I'm afraid to say that might be one of the nicer ways she's met people," Trunks added with a laugh, still exasperated at his mother's actions. What on Earth did she need to tase the man over?

 

Bulma noticed what she had seen the first time she met Lowell – he appeared gaunt. Feeling sorry for him, she did the only thing she could think of.

 

“Lowell, my son and I are headed home to prepare lunch. Would you like to join us?” she asked with a soft smile.

 

Lowell's teal eyes fell for a moment, and Bulma saw a deep sadness there. “Yes,” he said as he raised his eyes to look at hers once again. “Yes I would like that, very much.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Just as Trunks walked out of the front doors of First Mercy of Malleas hospital, he saw his comrade Armada headed his direction. “Hey,” he called out and waved to her. She stopped and waited for him to approach her.

 

“Looks like you've already been released,” she stated flatly.

 

“Yeah, Dr. Rema said I was good to go and I feel great,” Trunks replied. “I've got to keep a bandage on my arm and over the surgery site until tomorrow night. After that he said I don't have to keep the wound bandaged, but to call him if anything comes up,” he added.

 

Armada nodded. “Good. I brought the car so we'll take it back to the hangar. I've already stopped at the ship told everyone you were here,” she finished. Trunks nodded and the pair of them headed for the car.

 

A short trip later, Trunks and Armada were back in the hangar and flying up to enter the ship. Trunks went to his room first to set down some of his things. He turned and walked back down the hallway, through the bridge and around to the lounge. Naya and Laiserta sat at the table in the bridge, both eyeing him warily. Trunks was about to ask what was wrong when Marice walked in and ran straight up to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

 

“You're back!” Marice exclaimed excitedly.

 

“I am,” Trunks smiled down at her. He wanted to tell her that Dr. Rema had given him her medical records, but her smile stopped him. He had a feeling that she didn't want to leave.

 

Armada walked back into the lounge, and Naya finally spoke. “So where exactly have you two been?” she asked.

 

Armada paid Naya little attention, responding autonomously, “Out on a job, like I told you before we left.”

 

Laiserta scoffed, which drew Armada's gaze for a moment. Trunks looked over at Naya who shot Armada a knowing gaze before turning to him. “Really?” she asked, her brown eyes piercing right through him, or at least Trunks felt like they were. “You weren't perhaps in the Republic and destroying Rieve's merchant fleet?”

 

Trunks opened his mouth to speak but didn't know what to say. He looked down at Marice who was still standing right in front of him, her eyes looking up at him expectantly. He turned to Armada who met his gaze with her own hard, dark blue eyes. Her eyes darted over to Naya.

 

“So what if we were?” Armada asked.

 

“Holy shit spider-head, really?” Laiserta asked, her gaze incredulous.

 

Naya shook her head. “I knew I was right, but this is insanity. Why in creation would you go after Rieve?”

 

Trunks decided to break in. “They almost killed me,” he said. “Twice,” he begrudgingly added, remembering that the fight against Mikhail had been a setup.

 

“We're at war with Rieve,” Armada cut in. “I don't expect you to participate. You're free to leave at any time,” she explained.

 

Laiserta closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “ _Svanos verkos no mal,_ ” she cursed her comrades in Taydran. She knew Armada was crazy, but she never thought the woman was _this_ crazy.

 

Armada didn't wait for anyone to say anything else. She left the lounge, headed downstairs into the cargo bay and presumably after that, the engine bay. Laiserta explained that she had a headache and left. Naya followed after Armada, still wanting answers. Which left Trunks standing in the lounge with a distressed Marice.

 

“Come on,” he said, shooting her a small smile. Marice followed him back to his room, and Trunks shut the door behind them. Now was as good a time as any to discuss Marice's future, especially since Trunks now had a data chip in his pocket with Marice's medical records from the hospital – everything she needed to enter a refugee program.

 

Trunks moved across the room and sat down on his bed. Marice followed and sat next to him. “What's Rieve?” she asked, her countenance grim. Based on just what little she had heard Laiserta and Naya say, she was rightfully worried.

 

“Do you know what organized crime is?” Trunks asked, unsure how to explain Rieve in terms that Marice might understand. 

 

“Not really,” she replied in earnest.

 

Trunks nodded. “Okay. Think of it this way, it's a group of people who, instead of having normal jobs like normal people, they break the law specifically to make money. They run what they do like a business, but they do something that's against the law, like selling drugs or weapons,” he began. Marice nodded, and he continued. “Rieve is a very large version of that. They have people all across the universe in their organization, and they've done a lot of things to hurt people, myself and Armada included.”

 

Marice seemed to soak in the information for a moment, before asking a question that surprised Trunks. “Should you be fighting them?”

 

He had to think for a moment. Should he be fighting them? Sometimes he wasn't sure. But then he remembered that they were trying to kill him just as much as Armada at this point. Perhaps it was the worst parts of his father's ego that he inherited, but he couldn't walk away after they had attacked him, whether or not they intended to do so. 

 

“Yes,” Trunks finally answered Marice. “They tried to kill me. And Armada. So we're trying to destroy them so they can't hurt us or anyone else, ever again,” Trunks added. 

 

“I see,” Marice said lowly before her gaze fell away from his. She seemed to be thinking about what Trunks had said, when she suddenly piped up to change the topic of conversation.

 

“Trunks, I don't want to leave,” Marice began, her voice sturdy. “I know the original goal was to get me into a refugee program, but I don't want to leave. I want to stay here with you and everyone else, and help you fight Rieve.”

 

Trunks was a bit stunned by her words. “Well, I don't know how much Armada will let you do, but if it was up to me, then yes, I'd let you stay,” he said. “Besides,” he began again with a smile creeping into his features, “I haven't finished teaching you yet, have I?”

 

Marice smiled broadly at Trunks before reaching over and hugging him yet again. Trunks wasn't sure that he wanted Marice around for the danger ahead, but he felt better knowing where she was.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in bed and ended up staring at the ceiling. His mother had completed the time machine two months ago and finally finished all of her diagnostic tests. They were waiting for the last bit of energy to charge and as soon as it was ready, Trunks was going to head to the past. It would be any day now when the charge was complete, and Trunks was a ball of nerves. He knew he was going on a mission to only save Goku's life and do nothing else, but he couldn't help but wonder about his father. His mother had already told him not to get his hopes up about his father, but that didn't stop Trunks's mind from wandering through every possible scenario of meeting him.

 

The restlessness was making his back ache, so Trunks decided to get up and head outside. He read the clock on his nightstand, indicating that it was nearly 1am, but he didn't care. He couldn't sleep anyway so he might as well go outside and do some stretches. Instead of walking through the house, Trunks simply opened the sliding glass door to the balcony off of his room and jumped over it, using his ki to float down and land on the ground softly. Trunks walked out into the center courtyard, near his grandmother's rose garden when he thought he heard a strange noise.

 

Following the noise, Trunks walked around the back of the south building, and in the dark saw someone sitting on a bench under a tree. “Hey,” Trunks called out while walking over, concerned about who would be out there behind the south building at that time of night. 

 

Once Trunks was within a meter of the person sitting in the dark, he realized who it was. “Lowell,” Trunks said with concern, “what are you doing out here?” It was even more odd considering that Lowell didn't live at the Capsule Corporation like Mia and Terry did.

 

“My apologies Trunks,” Lowell said, wiping at his eyes. “I can leave if you feel that this is inappropriate,” he added, his voice sounding a little strange.

 

Trunks suddenly realized that Lowell had been  _crying_ . “Hey,” Trunks moved over and sat down on the bench next to Lowell, the older man on his left. “Are you okay?” he asked earnestly. Lowell was a nice man and Trunks hated to see him, or anyone else for that matter, crying in the dark.

 

Lowell nodded and finished wiping at his eyes before looking over at Trunks. “I'm fine. Sometimes the grief suddenly hits and I miss my family all over again,” Lowell added, smiling sadly. Trunks nodded in understanding. When he and his mother met Lowell last year, they quickly learned that he had relocated to West City from North City after it had been completely decimated by the cyborgs. Lowell had a family in North City, a wife and two daughters. They were all killed in that attack. He once told Trunks that he didn't plan on leaving North City until he ran into Neis, and the two of them left for West City together.

 

Trunks sighed, the pressure of his inability to defeat the androids weighing down his conscience. “I'm so sorry, Lowell,” Trunks said, his eyes falling down to the ground as he felt a burning in the back of them. Trunks's fists clenched, and he felt Lowell's pain welling up within him. “I'm so sorry, I couldn't... I...” Trunks tried to apologize, but he lost his voice. His eyes watered and he tried to hold in the rush of emotions he suddenly felt. He knew what it was like to lose someone; he had lost Gohan just three years ago but it felt like it was yesterday.

 

Trunks suddenly felt a hand on his left shoulder. He looked up at Lowell, who gave him a soft smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Trunks, but it's not your fault. The androids were the ones who killed my family. Only they are responsible for their deaths, no one else,” Lowell finished, giving Trunk's left shoulder a light squeeze with his right hand.

 

Trunks couldn't take it anymore. Lowell didn't know about him; Lowell didn't know that Trunks had been fighting the cyborgs and had failed to stop them. Lowell's words, while good-intentioned, had the opposite effect. Trunks choked back a sob and kept it from escaping his mouth, but he looked back up at Lowell as tears silently streamed down his face. Lowell was confused, and opened his mouth to speak but Trunks cut him off at the pass.

 

“It's me, Lowell,” Trunks began. “I'm the one fighting them. The guy with the blond hair they always talk about on the radio,” Trunks had to stop and swallow hard after his voice cracked. “I... I couldn't stop them in North... in Nor...” Trunks's voice fell apart.

 

Lowell suddenly understood. He knew there was something about the Briefs that he didn't quite understand, but he didn't think it was this. Lowell cringed, suddenly understanding why Trunks was so hurt. The poor kid was trying to shoulder the burden of all of humanity, trying to save them from some psychotic androids who wanted to kill for sport. And when speaking of his family, Lowell had reminded Trunks how he had failed to save them. Lowell never blamed anyone but the cyborgs for the death of his children and wife, and learning that Trunks was the young man still standing up to them after all these years didn't change how Lowell felt.

 

“It's okay,” Lowell said softly, wrapping his right arm around both of Trunks's shoulders and pulling the teenager closer to him. “It's good for the soul to cry sometimes,” Lowell said, his own tears silently starting to fall again as Trunks broke down into sobs next to him. “We have to let these feelings out somehow or they'll eat us alive,” Lowell added, tilting his head slightly to rest on Trunks's head, the teenager's face buried into the older man's shoulder as he cried. 

 

Lowell sat and comforted Trunks for however long it took. He was merely a literature professor back in North City; he had no useful skills to offer anyone in the current state of their world. But if he could provide a shoulder for Trunks to lean on, to cry on, then he would sit on that bench as long as he was needed. It was the least he could do.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Later that night, well after his other comrades had gone to bed, Trunks headed downstairs to find Armada in the engine bay. She was running diagnostics against two of the engines after replacing a minor part. “Hey,” Trunks said and waved to her as he walked over. She glanced at him and nodded, saying nothing.

 

When Trunks was standing only a few feet away from her, he leaned back against another engine in the next row, watching her for a moment. “I wanted to say thanks,” Trunks finally spoke up. Armada turned to look at him fully. “I wouldn't have been able to defeat Preva without your help,” he explained. “So thank you... for helping me, and for trusting me.” He hadn't forgotten that he blatantly asked for Armada's trust, and she had been hesitant to give it to him. While she wasn't a friend, he at least wanted to show his gratitude to her so that should the situation call for it again in the future, hopefully she would place her trust in him once again.

 

“I wouldn't have been able to defeat Preva on my own, either,” Armada replied flatly. “So that's why we're working together, right?” she added, with a slight smirk at the end of her question.

 

Trunks laughed lightly. “Yeah, it is.”

 

A moment of silence hung in the air between them until Armada spoke. “How's your jacket?” she asked, motioning toward the right sleeve of it since he was still wearing it.

 

“Oh, it looks brand new,” Trunks replied. “I don't know how it happened,” he paused, thinking of what to say when his comrade broke in.

 

“I couldn't find the exact material it's made out of,” Armada interrupted him, “but I got something close. It wasn't that difficult to repair since I had to stitch up my armor as well,” she added.

 

Trunks's eyes widened in shock.  _Armada_ had repaired his jacket? He almost couldn't believe it. “I didn't realize you did this,” Trunks said sheepishly, suddenly feeling very juvenile. Why did he think Dr. Rema had anything to do with it? The man had far more important things to do than worry about some old denim jacket. “Thank you,” Trunks managed to tack on at the end, realizing he had yet to thank her for what she did.

 

“It's no big deal,” Armada replied, her tone its usual flat alto. “I figured it's from your home world and probably means something to you. I wouldn't have gotten this far against Rieve without your help, so it was the least I could do,” Armada added before turning back to look at the engine's diagnostics console in front of her.

 

Trunks watched her work and a smile slowly formed on his face, despite her looking away from him. Armada had changed from when he first met her, and for the better. Perhaps one day he could eventually say they were friends.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After that first night on the bench behind the south building, Trunks found himself visiting Lowell there on occasion. He didn't live at Capsule Corp., but Lowell's new home was within walking distance so it wasn't that strange that he would sit on a bench on CC grounds. 

 

It had taken three more weeks for the time machine to finish charging after Trunks had told Lowell who he was, or at least part of the story. Trunks had just returned from his first trip to the past four days ago, and he was morose. Nothing had changed. Not only that, but in his anger, Trunks accidentally let the secret slip to Mia, who overheard a conversation with his mother just after he had returned. So now, not only had he fucked up his trip to the past to save everyone, but he also dragged Mia into it who had spent the last four nights crying herself to sleep, according to his mother. Trunks needed someone to talk to, and Lowell as his best bet right now as Neis wasn't exactly the most understanding person. And while Neis knew that Trunks fought the androids the same as Lowell, neither of them knew about the time machine. Trunks found Lowell was already seated at their bench before he arrived. Trunks took a seat next to Lowell, and the pair sat in silence and looked up the stars that were visible between the leaves of the tree above them.

 

“I don't think I can beat them, Lowell,” Trunks finally spoke up, his gaze still fixed upward. “It doesn't matter how much stronger I get, they're so beyond me that I don't think I'll ever catch up.”

 

“Don't worry so much about it,” Lowell answered him. “Just focus on what you can do now. It's all that any of us can do at this point.”

 

Trunks grimaced while still staring at the stars. Lowell didn't know about the time machine. He didn't know that his mother's plan had failed. Lowell couldn't understand the depths of Trunks's despair. He wished Gohan was still alive. He knew that no matter what, Gohan would know what to do. Trunks lamented that he hadn't learned any of Gohan's wisdom when they trained together. They were so focused on gaining strength as fast as they could that they didn't discuss anything else. Sometimes, Trunks wished that he was the one who perished at the hands of the cyborgs, and not Gohan. Because at least Gohan had a better shot at him than defeating the psychotic killers.

 

“You'll get them, on day,” Lowell said suddenly.

 

Trunks turned and looked at the older man, and their eyes met. “How can you be so sure?” Trunks asked, his voice defeated. 

 

Lowell smiled at him. "Because if you're anything like your mom, you don't know how to give up."

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks was in bed, asleep, when something nagged at him in the back of his mind. It took him a few moments to realize that his phone was ringing. He sat up in bed, blinking as he looked at the device on his nightstand, ringing away. Curious as to who would call him, considering all of his comrades were on the ship with him currently, Trunks picked up his phone and answered.

 

He paused a moment, waiting to see if someone on the other end of the line spoke first.

 

“ _Hey Toran, it's Q.”_

 

Trunks nearly dropped his phone in shock. “Quarry?!” Trunks shouted into the handset. “What happened?! I went to your funeral—”

 

“ _Sorry for any confusion, but this is a pre-recorded message,”_ Quarry's voice continued on the other end of the line. Trunks's heart sank as the message continued. _“I setup pre-recorded messages to go out if I didn't log in to a specific server in a certain number of days. If I haven't logged on in that amount of time, well... I know things must be bad.”_

 

The reality hit Trunks hard. Quarry knew what he was into was dangerous, just as Eleanor, Murtole's older sister told him. He had been prepared for something to happen to him. Trunks understood what Quarry did, but what confused him was... why him? Why would Q have anything to say or send to him?

 

“ _Anyway, I figured out what you and your mercenary friend are up to. So, I thought I'd lend my support. Just in case I didn't get a chance to give this to you before, I've sent a data cache along with this message directly to your phone. I included a ton of information about Rieve, since... well, it was already something I had on hand. But there's also a special tool I included. You'll have to read the directions, but to make a long story short, I can't hack into Rieve's data center because it's off of the network. If you ever get a chance to get inside, use the tool I've sent and you'll deal them a devastating blow._

 

“ _So... there's one other thing,”_ Quarry's voice continued, and there was a significant pause on the recording. _“My mom, she was part of the Orelnenn family, but knowing your partner you might already know that. Anyway, she died when I was young, because she was poisoned by Rieve.”_ Armada's words came back to mind and played over again in Trunks's head. _'_ _Quarry Listern, twenty-six years RST. His mother died from an illness when he was a young child.'_

 

_"So, if you're gonna attack Rieve, then get them for me, too. I'm a tech expert, not a fighter, so hopefully I've been able to help you. And whatever happens, promise me..."_ Q's voice went quiet for a moment.  _"Promise me that you'll keep Murtole out of it. Thanks Toran, and good luck to you."_

 

The recording stopped and the caller hung up on him. Trunks assumed that Quarry had it set to hang up after delivering the message. He noticed an alert that he had a new message along with an attachment, and figured that was the data that Quarry sent him. Trunks stared at his phone for a long moment before the screen finally went dark, leaving him in the darkness of his room once again. Trunks's shoulders slumped before he finally laid back down in his bed.

 

The guilt that Trunks felt for Q's death was not abated, and he swore that once he saw Dax again he would kill him. But now Trunks was reminded exactly why he wanted to destroy Rieve. Because they in turn killed people like Q and his mother, and destroyed people like Murtole who cared about those that were lost.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks returned home in a rush. He was supposed to meet Mia and Terry at the newly reopened Scioto Mile downtown and then take Terry to the park for an hour or so before he went out to a bar in the Short North to meet Neis and Oscar to watch a boxing match. Oscar was an amateur boxer, and he was excited for the first televised boxing fight to take place in years. Unfortunately, when Trunks left earlier he realized he'd forgotten his wallet, which he needed to pay for lunch for Mia and Terry.

 

Trunks flew down the halls of his home in the west building of Capsule Corporation, flying upstairs and down another hall until he reached his room. Once inside he immediately saw his wallet sitting on his dresser. Trunks breathed a sigh of relief; he was afraid that maybe he'd lost it last time he was out with Neis and Oscar. It was only a few months ago that the twenty-three-year-old demi-Saiyan had killed Cell, who showed up exactly as expected. The fight was easy, but now that it was behind him Trunks could relax. He could go out with his friends and try to have fun and not worry about the androids or Cell, and hopefully never have to worry about anyone attacking the Earth ever again.

 

With his wallet in hand, Trunks turned to leave. No sooner had he stepped out of the door to his room, Trunks felt his mother's ki nearby in her room. Something felt odd about it though, and Trunks stopped to analyze it. His eyebrows narrowed as he thought about what he felt. It had been a long time since Trunks felt this odd, eerie feeling attached to his mother's ki. It suddenly hit him; the last time her ki felt like this, she had been sick with pneumonia. 

 

Worried that his mother might be coming down with something, Trunks walked down another hallway over to his mother's room. He didn't even think to knock, he just reached for the door handle and turned it, opening the door with a cursory "Mom?"

 

What awaited Trunks on the other side of the door was something that he would soon wish he had never seen, and could hopefully forget. From the door to her room, Bulma's bed was visible on the east wall, directly in the line of sight of the doorway. When Trunks opened the door, he found his mother in bed all right, just not in the position he expected.

 

Lowell was lying on the mattress on his back, without a shirt on and pants unbuttoned. Bulma sat on top of him, her knees on either side of hips. She leaned over and was kissing Lowell, which wasn't the part that bothered Trunks. The problem was that his mother, much like Lowell, still had pants on but  _no shirt and no bra_ , while Lowell groped her bare chest. One of his mother's hands was positioned over the unbuttoned fly of Lowell's pants, and Trunks knew he had seen enough. Enough for a lifetime, or twelve.

 

_"Oh shit,"_ Trunks said, reacting poorly to his unintended intrusion on his mother and Lowell. 

 

Bulma screamed, sitting up and covering her chest.  _"Trunks what the hell are you doing?! Get out!!"_ she shouted, clearly angry.

 

"Oh shit!" Trunks shouted again, clenching his eyes closed and slamming the door shut behind him before flying through the house at top speed and rocketing off toward downtown.

 

Several hours later, Trunks was sitting at the bar in the Short North where he was set to watch the boxing match with Oscar and Neis. But he was too depressed to watch, and he was leaned over the bar, his face flat against the bartop.

 

"You guys don't understand," Trunks droned on. "I can't go home again. Ever. I'm toast," he added, his words still coming out surprisingly clear for someone who was drunk.

 

"I'm sorry for what you saw," Oscar said while patting Trunks on his left shoulder, "but don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction?"

 

"No," Trunks replied, his face still flat against the wooden bar.

 

"Well, what'd you expect?" Neis asked, a smirk on his face though Trunks couldn't see it. "You're twenty-three and you're still living with your mom. Who isn't dead, by the way," Neis added.

 

"No," Trunks began. "No... Mom... I... no," he mumbled, unable to form his thoughts into a coherent sentence. He'd quickly downed two bottles of whiskey upon reaching the bar with the intent to get drunk and forget about what he saw. He had succeeded on the getting drunk part, but was still failing on the forgetting about what he'd seen part.

 

"I can't blame Bulma," Neis said after taking another sip of his beer. "She's due for a good dicking, I'm just surprised it took the professor this long to get around to it considering the googley eyes they've been giving each other for years."

 

"Neis, please stop talking," Trunks begged, still face-down.

 

"Come on bro, give him a break," Oscar pleaded, giving Neis a sad smile.

 

"I'm just calling it like it is," Neis said, stopping to take a long drink from his beer bottle. "I mean, Professor Maxwell's wife was an awesome lady, I knew her. But she's gone now, and the guy deserves to be happy. Shit, and to get Bulma of all women? She's hot. She's too old for me, but she's hot for someone who's what, almost sixty?"

 

"Oh Kami," Trunks groaned, wishing he would suddenly go deaf.

 

"Come on, give the guy a break," Oscar repeated, trying to reign in Neis. Neis wasn't the most... sensitive person, to put nicely.

 

Neis finally shrugged and took another swig of his beer.

 

"I can never go home again," Trunks said, his face still laying down on the wooden bartop. "I'm gonna have to go live in the mountains and become a hermit, and my new best friends will be a dinosaur and a squirrel. My mentor Gohan did it when he was, he was like four, so I-I should be fine," Trunks rambled, stumbling over his words at the end of his sentence. He could usually keep up some decent decorum when he was drunk, but he had imbibed more than normal.

 

"Hey, you're gonna be fine," Oscar tried to console his friend. "It's gonna be awkward for a bit but you'll get over it."

 

"I'll never see my mother again," Trunks lamented. "I didn't even say 'goodbye' or 'I love you,' the last thing I said to her was 'oh shit.'"

 

Oscar and Neis both had to stifle their laughter. "Come on, I think we need to take you home," Oscar said, getting up from his bar stool and patting Trunks on the back.

 

Forty minutes later, Oscar and Neis had Trunks's arms wrapped around their shoulders as they dragged him into Mia's apartment in the south building of CC headquarters. They moved around Mia, dragging Trunks over to a couch in her living room where they carefully tried to set him down, but he fell face-first into the cushions.

 

"Sorry about bringing him over like this," Oscar said to Mia. "He freaked out when we tried to drag him inside his own house, and well, Neis and I can't exactly match his strength," Oscar said, blushing in embarrassment.

 

"No it's totally okay," Mia reassured him. "What's the matter with him, anyway?" she asked. "He's usually pretty agreeable when drunk."

 

Neis snickered before looking over at Mia. "He accidentally walked in on Lowell boning his mom."

 

"Oh my," Mia said, her eyes widening in shock.

 

"Yeah, so he's too embarrassed to go home," Oscar added. "He thinks he can never go home again," he explained with a laugh.

 

"Aww, the poor guy," Mia said, stifling her own laughter.

 

"Anyway, he's never puked so I think he's gonna be fine, we just couldn't get him through the front door of his own place," Neis explained. "If he's still a problem in the morning give us a call and we'll come over and kick his ass."

 

"Well I don't know about that," Oscar added, turning to Mia once more. "But call us if you need help."

 

Mia nodded. "Will do. Have a nice night guys," she said, leading them out the apartment and closing the door behind her. 

 

She turned and look at Trunks, who had one leg hanging off of the side of the couch, his knee sitting against the floor. He was face-down on the couch, but seemed to be sleeping already. Mia laughed to herself; she wasn't sure if Trunks would ever live this down. Then again it would be hilarious to tease him about it in the morning.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Ryan Rieve sat up in bed, reading through reports on his tablet. So far there was no new information on the mercenary and her new partner. So Ryan tried his best to focus on sifting through various items that he needed to respond to or otherwise approve. It was difficult. He still felt the anger over his friends' deaths, but that anger had simmered and wasn't fueling him the way it was the past few days. He was tired.

 

Helena walked out of the bathroom adjoining their bedroom and shut the light off behind her, leaving their bedroom mostly dark save a lamp on Ryan's side of the bed. Wearing just a long camisole, Helena made her way over to their bed and crawled in, sitting up next to her lover. "What are you doing?" she asked, reaching up to pull the tie that held up her long black hair before setting it on the small table next to her.

 

Ryan sighed, letting his tablet fall down into his lap. "Trying to run the business," he replied, looking over into her light grey eyes. 

 

Helena reached over and picked up the tablet, turning off the display and setting it on her nightstand. "Don't push yourself so hard," she said and reached up to hold the side of Ryan's cheek with her right hand.

 

"Everyone is relying on me," Ryan began, his eyes dropping away from hers again. "And I've let this mess get out of control." He shook his head. "Two people destroyed the merchant fleet and killed Preva," he said lowly. "I still have trouble believing it."

 

"Hey," Helena said, and his eyes drifted back up to meet hers. "We're going to handle this. Okay? Okay," she reiterated. "You and I, we can take care of this. We just need to wait until the right moment to go after them," she explained. Ryan nodded in agreement, his eyes showing how tired he truly was.

 

"I have to leave in a few days to go after a pirate fleet that's been raiding our routes in the Republic," she continued.

 

"I remember," Ryan said, nodding again to her. He had approved the maneuver a few weeks ago, and it was now time for Helena Novostra to lead the military fleet out to destroy the privateers trying to steal from Rieve. The Republic certainly wasn't going to take care of the problem.

 

"I have to see Hamad again soon," Ryan suddenly added. "Apparently he needs more...  _persuasion_ ," Ryan said flatly. He knew exactly what that meant when Nomaton told him that she felt his conviction wavering and that Ryan needed to go see the Taydran prince yet again. Helena also knew what the meant, but she seemed completely unfazed by it. To her, it was just another part of running Rieve.

 

Helena laughed, the sound making Ryan's heart feel a little lighter. "Our favorite wayward prince," she snickered. "It's okay, we need to keep his loyalty, so do whatever it takes." Ryan understood that was her permission for what he needed to do. He didn't care for it, but Rieve needed Taydr, and they needed Prince Gen to maintain that relationship for them.

 

She reached up and planted a light kiss on Ryan's lips. "Get some rest," she said, smiling at him. He nodded to her once more, and turned to his left to shut off the bedside lamp.

 

 

-+-

 

 

"Do you ever wonder if you've done the right thing?"

 

Lowell brought his hand up to his chin and thought about the question posed to him. He was a literature professor by trade and had studied philosophy, so he could give the scholarly answer, but he knew that wasn't what Trunks was getting after. Bulma had already told him that she knew something was bothering her son the past few days, she just didn't know what it was.

 

"What exactly do you mean?" Lowell asked, trying to suss out what the young man was after. "Are we talking about morality?" he asked, the scholarly side of him sometimes hard to stuff away.

 

Trunks leaned down and picked up another rock, looking out at the ocean in the distance. "No, just... anything," Trunks said, before chucking the rock as hard as he could, watching it sail out over the ocean and disappear from sight. "Any decision that you make. It doesn't have to be one born out of a moral or ethical dilemma," Trunks explained, turning to look back at Lowell, who sat on the hood of his car several meters back from where Trunks was in the sand on the beach.

 

"Everyone has doubt, Trunks,” Lowell began. “It's part of being human. We will always wonder about the other choices, the roads not taken, the what-ifs. We'll doubt ourselves after we've made a decision, and think about backing out of it.” Lowell paused, the sound of the ocean waves hitting the beach filling the silence of the night.

 

“That's why our brains are so good at solving problems,” Lowell continued. “Because we know how to analyze the different outcomes of choices. The rest of the animal kingdom can't do that – or at least, we haven't figured out if they can,” he amended.

 

“Bottom line,” Lowell, the man and not the professor, started again, “it's okay if those thoughts pop up, there's nothing wrong with that. Don't feel bad if sometimes you wonder if you made the right choice. That's what keeps you grounded."

 

Trunks nodded to Lowell before reaching down to pick up another rock. He turned and threw it over the ocean water as well, watching as it quickly disappeared from sight. He looked back at Lowell again. “What do you do if,” Trunks paused, trying to think of how to phrase the question. “What do you do if someone wants something from you that you don't have to give? And you don't want to hurt them, but,” he trailed off, not sure how to finish his thought.

 

Lowell nodded, some things that he had noticed now falling into place. Even if he didn't know exactly what had happened, he guessed that Mia must have made her feelings for Trunks known. And by the way he phrased his question, it was clear to Lowell that Trunks was unable to return her affections.

 

“All human conflict is born of people wanting things that others do not have the ability or the will to give up,” Lowell began. “Unfortunately, that is part of life and will continue to happen as long as human society exists. But,” Lowell paused as he thought about how to communicate his thoughts delicately, “it does no good to anyone for a person to try and force themselves to want something that they don't want.”

 

Trunks nodded slightly, and seemed thoughtful. Lowell presumed that he had given Trunks the answer Trunks expected, but not the one that he wanted. The young man couldn't help it; he had spent the majority of his life fighting to save every soul he could. It ran antithetical to him to hurt a friend like Mia by failing to live up to her expectations, but at the same time he struggled with his own wants. Lowell could hardly blame him for feeling 'stuck,' as he had said to the older man earlier when they left the Capsule Corporation grounds.

 

“I think we should head back,” Lowell finally broke the silence between them. “I know your mom is going to head to Bmyhad tomorrow, so she'll want to see you before she leaves.”

 

“Yeah,” Trunks laughed to himself and smiled ruefully, “she hates it when I sleep in late.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading! Please please please leave a review and let me know what you thought! I'm trying to move things along faster by not writing in as many extraneous details in some of these scenes, so I would especially like feedback on that. This is already a long fanfic but I don't want to bore anyone with things that aren't relevant to the plot or specific characters.

 

Now, the next theme song! Marice's theme song was very easy for me, I knew it years ago when I first heard the song. It's “Paradise” by Coldplay. A lovely song in its own right, but it's especially true for Marice when listening to the lyrics. I recommend you go give it a listen. I love Marice, and I can't wait for her to show how much of a badass she can be too.

 

Anyway, if you have time please let me know what you think by leaving a review. It doesn't have to be a long review, or complicated – any feedback is better than none. I'm also not so thin skinned as to get upset over critical feedback. Thanks everyone! :]

 

-Silvia

 

 

 


	25. Mission 16:  Crash and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks's new ally, Naya, provides information to the team on a Rieve merchant hub along a smuggling route. The crew heads in to take out the hub when they find themselves caught in a battle among pirates...

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

There was a cursory knock on the ornate wooden door, even though it was wide open. “Sir,” the young man in the doorway said, hoping to get the attention of his leader sitting behind the equally ornate wooden desk inside.

 

Noran's eyes drifted up from the paperwork in front of him. “Lieutenant Hayes,” Noran said casually, waiting for the young man to speak. Noran's office was lavishly decorated, befitting an equally decorated general such as himself.

 

“I just got word,” Hayes began as he walked into the room and stood in front of the desk. “The operation with the replica ship went successfully,” he said, setting down a tablet in front of Noran that had information regarding the success of the operation.

 

Noran glanced over the report, and was pleased that everything had gone according to plan. “Excellent,” he said, nodding in approval. “That should get the Alliance to move on the mercenary. They have no choice now,” he finished, holding up the tablet and handing it back to Hayes.

 

Hayes took the tablet back and nodded before adjusting the dark green hat he wore, part of his uniform. He seemed to swallow nervously before continuing. “There's something else,” he began, and Noran's eyebrows rose in curiosity. “We received a report from intel regarding Senator Ballasten,” Hayes began.

 

Noran's face fell into a frustrated gaze. “The senator is a fool,” he said flatly, unsurprised that the old man was up to something. “What is it this time?”

 

“He sent a formal request to the Republican justice department asking them to send a request of extradition to the Alliance for the mercenary, if she's captured,” Hayes explained and paused a moment. “Supposedly they are using the charge of 'war crimes' to up the priority of the request.”

 

Noran closed his eyes briefly and laughed. Upon opening them again, he regarded his lieutenant with a smirk. “Nice move on his part, unfortunately the Alliance won't be so willing to hand over a terrorist after she's attacked civilians,” Noran replied. “I don't think we need to worry about it. We just need to keep the senator playing along until we can get control of Virda's fleet. Once he's served his purpose, we can cut him loose.”

 

Noran then rose from his desk and moved around it, headed for the door. Lieutenant Hayes fell into step beside him as they left his office, headed down the hall for an unknown destination. “The senator thinks that we're going to seize control of Virda's fleet so he can take over control of the Alliance,” Noran explained. “We have no reason to help him in his attempted coup once we have the fleet, but he's too blind to his own ambition to realize that.” Several men passed by Noran and Hayes, saluting at their commanding officer as he passed. Noran nodded to them in return. He turned and headed down a large staircase, Hayes following right behind him.

 

“So why try to keep the mercenary out of it?” Hayes asked.

 

Noran laughed. “He thinks that she's his bargaining chip to keep me in check. What he doesn't realize is that I've been looking for her for decades. I have enough patience to wait a little longer,” Noran looked at Hayes, his eyes narrowing as his mouth formed a smirk.

 

 

-+-

 

 

_Shine a light in the dark,_   
_Let me see where you are,_   
_‘Cause I’m not gonna leave you behind_

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Mission 16: Crash and Burn

 

 

-+-

 

 

Laiserta took a seat in the lounge, sitting down on the bench along the wall underneath the main monitor. She had just finished cooking and serving breakfast to her shipmates and finally had the chance to sit and eat herself. Armada, Trunks, Marice and Naya sat at the table, the latter three crowded together on the long side of the table.

 

Naya had finished her breakfast and politely set her utensils down on her plate. She turned and looked at Armada. “I have decided,” she began slowly, “that despite the insanity in fighting a war against Rieve, that I will stay. For now,” Naya amended.

 

Marice smiled but said nothing. “So as a show of good faith,” Naya continued, “I will give you some intelligence I was able to gather on Rieve that includes the location of one of their major hubs along a smuggling route.”

 

“How were you able to get that?” Laiserta asked from across the room, her words slightly muffled by all the food in her mouth.

 

Naya sighed at her comrade's lack of manners. “I still have access to some old intelligence networks from Tyron,” she explained. “These are data caches that are placed in the field to assist field operatives when they cannot communicate directly with central command.”

 

Laiserta swallowed. “Well that's awfully convenient,” she said, a scowl appearing on her face.

 

“I'm not at liberty to say any more than that,” Naya replied. “Just because I'm retired does not mean that state secrets are no longer secret,” she finished with a smile.

 

Laiserta pouted and turned toward Armada. “Yo spider-head, you gonna let her get away with that?” she asked, clearly trying to get someone on her side.

 

“If the intel is good, I don't care where it comes from,” Armada replied. She turned back to Naya to follow up on this new information. “Where's the hub?”

 

“On a planet called Ikatsu. It's a significant distance behind the Republican border, but still within the relatively overlooked southeastern sector,” Naya replied. “I've already studied the materials and set up a basic infiltration plan,” she added.

 

Armada stood from her seat, moving out from behind the table while carrying her now empty plate. “I'll set a course for Ikatsu. Be ready to go over the plan once we can set the ship to auto-pilot,” Armada said, turning to walk into the galley and clean up her used dishes.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Ikatsu was a planet farther into Republican space than anywhere Trunks had traveled with Armada thus far. It took them four days to get to Ikatsu, especially because Armada slowed the ship upon entering Republican space to stay hidden. Naya had gone over the plan with the group and was leading on the mission. She would run things over the radio on foot with Laiserta while Trunks and Armada paired up to cause most of the damage and provide the distraction for Laiserta and Naya to infiltrate the facility, their goal to steal any and all data Rieve had on site before Trunks and Armada would ultimately destroy the place. Naya's intel didn't have any information regarding energy fighters, but Trunks and Armada considered it to be the same as the job on Belos, and were prepared for anything. Marice would provide radio support from within the ship, should anything show up on the ship's scanners that required the mercenaries' attention.

 

“Hey I'm gonna exit FTL travel now because we're close to Ikatsu,” Laiserta called out from the bridge. She was seated at the piloting console and checked a few items via the on-screen diagnostics before she began to slow the ship.

 

Trunks had just picked up his sword and slung it over his shoulder while he buckled the clip in front. He walked out of his room and down the hall to the bridge, Marice walking only a few meters ahead of him. Suddenly the ship jerked violently, listing to one side roughly. Marice screamed as she fell, and Trunks was able to fly forward fast enough to catch her before she slammed into the metal walls of the ship. Carrying her in his arms, Trunks flew forward into the bridge to find out what was going on.

 

Armada flew in with Naya running behind her from the lounge. “What's going on?” Armada shouted.

 

Laiserta pulled herself up from the floor, a trail of blood running down from a nasty gash in her forehead. “Fuck, I don't know,” Laiserta replied while gritting her teeth. “I just dropped us out of FTL travel, that's all.”

 

The ship shook again, though not as violently as the first time. Realization dawned upon Naya. “We're under fire,” she said breathlessly, looking over to Armada.

 

Armada floated over to the navigation console and brought up the ship's outside cameras on all screens.

 

“Holy shit,” Laiserta cursed as each screen showed hundreds of space fighters engaged in battle just above the surface of Ikatsu.

 

“They shouldn't fighting this close to the gravity well,” Armada voiced her thoughts aloud as she looked at each of the ship's main monitors.

 

The ship was hit again and rocked forward, throwing three women off of their feet while Trunks and Armada floated inside the ship. “We need to get out of here!” Armada shouted as various alarms in the ship began to sound off.

 

“Gonna be hard to do because we just lost half our engines!” Laiserta countered. She put the ship into manual mode and grabbed the controls. “I'm gonna try and land this thing, it's all we can do to get away from these dumbasses,” she declared, gritting her teeth as she pulled back on the ship's controls, trying to turn toward the planet below them.

 

Unfortunately another bombardment hit the ship, and Trunks leaned forward to grab Marice and hold on to her. He pulled her head in toward his chest and covered her with his arms. The ship was pushed forward again, causing Laiserta to fall out of her seat onto the main console. Naya lost her footing and fell forward, but Armada caught her and kept her from crashing into the front of the bridge like her Taydran comrade.

 

A secondary explosion went off, but the sound and vibration through the ship was different than the others. It only took Trunks a moment to figure out what it was, when suddenly his hair started to float up around him.

 

“Damn,” Armada cursed, realizing that the artificial gravity generator had been hit. “Trunks!” she shouted, turning to look at him. “Help me get them strapped in!”

 

Trunks nodded, immediately understanding what she wanted him to do. He flew forward, placing Marice into the chair to the right of Laiserta and helping her strap in. Armada did the same with Naya, and Trunks finished by helping Laiserta sit back in the pilot's seat and get her harness on as well.

 

“Thanks wonder boy,” Laiserta wheezed, sounding completely out of breath.

 

Armada pushed Laiserta's chair backward along its track, and locked it into place away from the piloting controls. She then stood where Laiserta had been sitting and grabbed the controls. “What do we do?” Trunks asked.

 

The ship was hit again, and one of the outside cameras lost its signal. Whereas the planet had been below them earlier, the ship was completely turned upside-down and now the planet seemed to be above them. “We're already stuck in the gravity well, we're gonna have to land,” Armada said as she furiously punched away at the controls. “The only problem is that Ikatsu is over there,” Armada said, pointing up at the main monitor. Trunks hadn't noticed at first, but there was another planet well within their sight.

 

“Twin orbiting planets, Ikatsu and Jakotsu,” Naya said, grimacing as the ship rocked again.

 

Another explosion sounded and the ship began careening down toward the green planet below. Armada did all she could to hold on to the controls. As the ship began descending into Jakotsu's atmosphere, it began to vibrate violently due to the friction. “We're going too fast!” Armada shouted, trying her best to slow the ship as much as she could.

 

“We're gonna crash?” Trunks asked over the noise. He heard a strange noise and looked over at Marice; she had vomited from the turbulence.

 

“Pull the manual release to close the doors into the bridge,” Armada ordered Trunks. He flew over to the door leading into the lounge first and pulled the release, causing the door to close and hiss as it sealed. He repeated the same procedure on the other side where the hallway led down to the barracks.

 

“Hold on to something,” Armada said through gritted teeth as she pulled back on the ship's controls, trying to keep the bow from landing directly into the ground. Trunks watched as their ship plummeted toward the surface of Jakotsu, seemingly in a nose-dive. At the last second, the ship seemed to turn up just before they hit a treeline. All of the ship's monitors went dark, and dim emergency lighting turned on.

 

Trunks tried to hold on to the back of Marice's chair, but he was afraid he would end up pulling her free so he let go. The ship hit the ground with an impact that made Trunks lose his breath. He and Armada were tossed around the bridge for what felt like an eternity as the ship shook and electrical fires broke out in the bridge.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After what felt like a complete pummeling resulting in him losing consciousness for a few short seconds, Trunks opened his eyes and lifted his head from the floor of the ship. Like him, Armada was just now stirring to her feet. She tried to say something to him, but all he could hear was a high pitched whine in his ears. Trunks pulled himself up to his knees before standing fully. He saw Armada using a fire extinguisher to put out the electrical fires that had broken out in the bridge.

 

Armada turned to him again and said something, but Trunks only heard a muffled sound, as if she were trying to speak to him through water. She must have sensed that he didn't understand her, as she pointed to their three comrades. Trunks floated over to look at Marice first; she was unconscious. He unbuckled her harness and scooped her up in his arms.

 

Armada did the same with Naya, and then floated past Trunks while carrying the Tyrian woman. She kicked at the door that Trunks had shut earlier, knocking it off of its hinges. She flew down the hallway, Trunks in tow behind her, and kicked open the door leading outside of the ship. Armada flew out into the light, and Trunks had to squint at first because the light was so bright. They appeared to land in some sort of plains at the base of a mountain range in the distance.

 

He looked down and noticed that Armada had flown down to the ground, setting Naya down to lay on her back in the grass. Trunks followed her lead and did the same with Marice. Trunks listened closely for a heartbeat and to make sure Marice was still breathing; she was and he let out a sigh of relief. Armada returned with Laiserta this time, setting her down on the ground beside Naya.

 

After making sure that their comrades had survived the crash, Armada flew into the wreckage of the ship and brought out a crate full of medical supplies. She used a small scanner to see if any of her allies were bleeding internally, and the results came back negative. She and Trunks took the time to bandage up any injuries, and Trunks did his best to clean off Marice's face and clothes from where she had gotten sick.

 

Sitting down to take a quick breather, Trunks turned to look at Armada. She was standing with her back to him, gazing over at the ship. The back half of the ship looked like it had been through a war, and he could see where the engine bay had been severely damaged. Armada seemed to be thinking for a long moment before she finally turned to Trunks. “Stay here and keep them safe,” she said before flying up and into the ship once more.

 

“Wait, what?” Trunks asked in confusion. What was she planning on doing? He took off after her.

 

Once inside the ship, Trunks followed Armada into her barracks. She opened a closet and started removing her armor. “What are you doing?” Trunks asked as she worked quickly to remove her arm guards and chest plate.

 

“We need parts to repair the ship,” she said before pulling the top half of her black under armor up over her head. “Jakotsu, just like Ikatsu is a poor world. We won't be able to find what we need here.” She focused on her task of removing her armor, not bothering to turn away from Trunks. She wore a black bandeau and a black pair of shorts underneath her armor, so it wasn't as if she was stripping nude in front of him.

 

Trunks then noticed in the closet behind Armada what looked like a dark blue spacesuit and matching helmet. His eyes darted back to hers. “Armada what are you doing?” he asked again, his voice starting to sound a little panicked.

 

Armada had managed to kick off her boots and pulled down the rest of her black under armor. She turned and grabbed the dark blue spacesuit from the closet behind her and began stepping into it. “We need to salvage parts from another ship. And between those rag-tag pirate fleets up there fighting one another, we need a relatively new and advanced ship to salvage those parts from. If I don't go up there now and find one,” she trailed off, pulling her arms through the sleeves of the spacesuit and proceeding to zip it up.

 

“No, you can't go up there alone,” Trunks argued back. Was she insane? How was she going to capture a ship all by herself?

 

“Can you survive in a vacuum?” she asked tersely. Trunks merely stared back at her and didn't respond. “I didn't think so,” Armada said before turning and picking up the matching dark blue helmet from her closet. She quickly donned the helmet, locking it into place and closing the seals around the neckline of her suit. “Seeing as how I only have one spacesuit and it's not your size, that means I'm going,” she added, her voice slightly distorted by her helmet.

 

She took a moment to turn on the HUD inside her helmet, before pressing another button on the outside of her helmet to trigger the oxygen tanks to suck in air from the atmosphere and separate out the oxygen for storage in the tank on the back of her suit. The quiet whirring sound didn't register to Trunks; his eyes had fallen down to the floor but his gaze turned inward. He was thinking of how he could stop her, or at least help her – he needed to think of  _something_ , he couldn't leave this all on his comrade.

 

“You told me to trust you on Belos,” Armada's voice cut into his thoughts and garnered his attention. “I need you to trust me now, on this. We don't have any other options.”

 

Trunks grimaced, but he didn't see another route ahead. “Okay,” he conceded. “Be careful,” he added, knowing that it was probably a useless thing to say to Armada of all people, but he needed to say it regardless.

 

“Make sure everyone stays safe. I'll be back as soon as I can,” she replied. “This suit only holds twelve hours of oxygen anyway.” With that said, she floated past Trunks, and he followed behind her.

 

Once they were outside of the ship, Armada shot Trunks once last glance. He nodded to her, and she took off straight up into the sky at what he figured was her full speed. Trunks watched her form quickly disappear into the distance, before a noise below caught his attention.

 

Trunks flew back down to his comrades, as it appeared they were beginning to come to. Laiserta forced herself to sit up first, looking into the sky where Armada had disappeared. “Where the hell is she going?” Laiserta asked, her typical snarky tone replaced with one that indicated she was still pretty sore overall.

 

Trunks took a knee next to Laiserta. “To steal a spaceship,” he answered, setting a hand on Laiserta's back as she began coughing violently.

 

 

-+-

 

 

It didn't take long for Armada to clear the atmosphere of Jakotsu and reach the quietness of space. Despite the battle still raging, the sounds of ships firing upon one another and the resulting explosions couldn't travel through the vacuum of open space. All that Armada heard was her own breathing inside her helmet.

 

Armada kept flying, as the distance she needed to cover was still pretty far, and she started to use the optical zoom on her helmet to get a better look at some of the ships in the distance. Both sides of the battle were riddled with random ships of all sizes and types, some even fitted with weapons that were decades newer than the vessel they had been attached to. Her head turned rapidly as she scanned the battlefield, searching for something that was new enough and large enough to have parts she could at least make fit her ship.

 

Spotting a cluster of larger ships in the distance off to her left, Armada focused her sights on them and flew toward them. Using the zoom capabilities of her heads-up-display, she took a closer look. The ships in question were much newer than some of the others, and much larger than her own. Seeing several good candidates to steal from, she pushed herself to take off as fast as she could. She needed to get one of these ships and take it down to Jakotsu before it took too much damage in the battle. One crash was enough for her.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Their formation on the starboard side is beginning to fall apart,” a young man sitting at one of the battle stations on the frigate called out to the commander.

 

“Excellent,” Helena Novostra replied, standing at the center platform in the bridge of her fleet's flagship. “Their fighters aren't dedicated,” she continued, “so once they realize they're going to lose the battle, most of their men will flee.” She stood in her blue Rieve uniform, a nicely tailored suit, with her black hair pulled up and away from her neck in a high ponytail. With her feet shoulder-width apart and her hands casually joined behind her back, she exuded the cool and collected persona that was known throughout Rieve for.

 

“Command ships in the rear are starting to retreat,” a young woman's voice broke in from another console in the bridge.

 

“Send team Dusk the signal to pursue,” Helena coolly answered. “We need to wipe out the leadership now, and put this to bed.”

 

“Yes ma'am,” the young woman responded before pulling her radio headset closer to her mouth to relay the message.

 

Helena's violet eyes scanned the monitors at the front of the bridge, displaying varying statistics about the battle. So far, Rieve's forces were outperforming even her expectations. She suspected that her pilots were rattled by some of Rieve's recent losses and would perform poorly, but for whatever reason they seemed to be doing the opposite. It was a pleasant surprise.

 

“Change to long range cameras,” Helena commanded, and the floor-to-ceiling monitors in the front of the bridge changed from their statistical displays to instead show the expanse of space and the battlefield before them. Helena preferred to actually see what was happening on the battlefield, as opposed to visual representations of the action.

 

“The defenser _Muriel_ is reporting they were just hit?” the first young man on the communications console spoke up once more, his voice expressing his confusion. He turned to look up at Helena, who was standing on a platform in the center of the bridge behind him.

 

“How?” Helena demanded, her eyes narrowing. One of the defense ships for her flagship had been hit? It was impossible, there were no enemies anywhere near them.

 

“Scans are showing the ship taking damage,” another man chimed in.

 

“Get a visual on the _Muriel_ , now!” Helena shouted. 

 

The display in the front of the bridge quickly changed to a view of one of the three defenser ships assigned to protect the Rieve commander's flagship. Several explosions rocked the ship again, and Helena immediately recognized what was happening. “An energy fighter...!” she hissed, gritting her teeth in frustration. Several energy blasts hit the ship on screen, but none of the attacks was enough to severely damage the ship. Whoever was attacking it seemed to be aiming to disable weaponry and the ship's shield generators rather than just outright destroying it.

 

“I think we've got an image of the person attacking,” another woman's voice called out. She tapped away on the console in front of her before the still image she had managed to capture was displayed on the bridge's main display.

 

Helena's eyes widened in shock at the image. It was a woman in a blue spacesuit, but more than that – she quickly recognized the face behind the helmet's visor, especially with the distinctive long blonde bangs. “The mercenary,” Helena said breathlessly. What was she doing  _here_ , of all places? And attacking one of their ships without just simply destroying it? What was her goal?

 

“ _Muriel_ now reporting that they've been boarded by... one person?” the comms lead said once again, still confused by the reports from their allies on the ship the _Muriel_. “Commander, your orders?” he asked, turning to look at her again.

 

Helena Novostra did not like unknowns. This was certainly an unknown variable thrown into the battle, with the mercenary here and now. Clearly she was trying to take the  _Muriel_ , but the motive was unclear. Helena could order her forces to fire on the ship, but that wouldn't guarantee the mercenary's death. It would, however, cause casualties on Rieve's end. She had good people working for her, and Helena was not prepared to sacrifice them for something she couldn't even remotely think had a chance of working in the given situation.

 

“Orders are to abandon ship,” Novostra barked out.

 

“A-are you sure?” the comms lead asked, his eyes widening.

 

“Yes,” Helena replied, understanding her subordinate's shock at her orders. “All crew of the _Muriel_ are to abandon ship. Send out all rescue squads to pick them up once their lifepods eject from the ship,” she finished explaining.

 

“Yes ma'am,” the comms lead nodded, turning back to his console. The bridge seemed to spark to life, as everyone started contacting other ships in the fleet to relay the commander's order.

 

“Get a line open to headquarters,” Helena added, her eyes narrowing. “ I need to speak to the _comonstoro_ immediately.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks and Naya were going through medical supplies they had on the ground near their shipwreck, organizing the crate that Armada had pulled out of the cargo bay for them. Laiserta was standing nearby, rubbing her shoulders where the straps of her seat's harness had pressed into her. Laiserta turned and looked up to the sky, but she didn't need any of her special vision modes to see what was happening.

 

“Holy shit,” Laiserta said slowly as she watched a large space frigate burning as it flew through the atmosphere, not very far above them in the sky. “You weren't kidding,” Laiserta said, her head turning as she followed the ship with her eyes.

 

Trunks and Naya turned and looked up, to see the same ship burning and careening through the sky of Jakotsu toward the mountain range they had landed near. Trunks then looked at Naya, who turned her attention to him in response. “We're fine, go help the captain,” Naya said pointedly. Trunks nodded, before taking off to the sky, the wind from his exit blowing bits of grass into the air.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Two and a half days after crashing on Jakotsu, Trunks held up a large piece of sheet metal above his head, floating while staying steady to keep the part in position while Armada flew around him and welded the edges together. Armada had said they were lucky that only the external layers of the hull had been damaged, and that none of the interior of the ship was breached. Trunks wasn't sure he considered that to be  _lucky_ , but the damage to the ship could have been worse—and he was grateful that it wasn't.

 

“Okay, it's done,” Armada said, raising the visor on her welding mask before looking down at Trunks who floated a few meters away and farther down the hull of the ship.

 

Trunks gingerly backed away from the panel, letting go slowly in case the welding didn't hold and the part fell. As he floated backwards, he let out a sigh of relief when he realized it wasn't going to fall. Even Armada had her doubts due to the speed with which they were working on repairs.

 

"Okay," Armada said and turned toward Trunks. "I'm going to finish up the welding on the hull, you go help Lai with the engine repairs," she directed.

 

Trunks nodded and turned and flew back down to the ground, landing a few meters away from Laiserta. Lai was sitting at a makeshift workshop, a metal table with a stool where each engine lay on top of the table as she worked. The individual engines used for the ship's propulsion weren't very large, but there were over forty of them, with more than half needing serious repairs. It was going to be quite a job to get them all functioning again.

 

"How's it going?" Trunks asked as he walked up to Laiserta.

 

Laiserta didn't bother to look away from her work. "Naya got the engines still inside the ship stabilized," she answered, using a small pick to brush away debris from the circuitry she was trying to get to. "This is number six for me, so if I get this one up and running with the rest, we'll have enough propulsion for flight," she finished, the red irises of her eyes turning around her pupil as she focused her vision intensely on her work.

 

"Good," Trunks replied. "Once Armada finishes the repairs to the front hull of the ship we may be ready to leave," he added. Two days of work on the ship non-stop had gotten them this far, he was hoping that there wouldn't be much more needed before they could leave for Bmyhad. At least back in Ute Armada would have an easier time getting materials to repair the ship.

 

"Speaking of spider-head," Laiserta said, finishing with one tool and setting it down on the table before looking up at Trunks. "Did you know this ship doesn't have a name?" Trunks merely shrugged in response. "Yeah, well, I asked her, and she said it doesn't. You do know that's unlucky as shit, right?" she continued, her voice clearly demonstrating her displeasure. Laiserta picked up a small soldering iron and pointed at Trunks with it as she spoke. "Once we get back to Ute, we gotta give this thing a name. It's no wonder we crashed when we've been flying around, tempting fate," she finished, giving him a pointed look before returning to her work.

 

Trunks laughed slightly. "Yeah, I guess it couldn't hurt," he said with a rueful smile. He opened his mouth to ask Laiserta another question when a sudden energy spike in the distance stunned him into silence. Trunks immediately spun around and looked into the direction he sensed the energy. He saw that Armada had turned away from her work as well, also looking in the same direction in the sky. She turned and looked down at Trunks where he stood on the ground, her expression guarded but stony.

 

"Lai, we've got incoming," Trunks said flatly, turning to look at his comrade.

 

Laiserta scoffed, "What, did Marice eat the shrimp again? I told her to give up, she's obviously allergic," Laiserta continued, finally looking up at Trunks. When her gaze met his, the smirk fell from her face and worry settled into her eyebrows. "You're serious," she stated in disbelief. "Ah, shit," Laiserta cursed, jumping up from her seat and running toward the open cargo bay at the back of the ship.

 

Naya was walking down the ramp when Laiserta sprinted past her. "What's going on?" she called out to Trunks, concern lacing her voice.

 

"At least two energy fighters are on their way here," Trunks explained. "And I think it's safe to assume they're not a rescue team."

 

"Damn," Naya cursed under her breath. She glanced back up into the ship before looking at Trunks once more. "I'll get Lai and Marice into position to defend," she added.

 

"No," Armada cut in, flying down to Trunks. She had taken the time to head back into the ship and put her armor on. She carried Trunks's jacket and sword with her, tossing both down to him as she landed next to him.

 

Armada looked up to Naya. "You three need to stay on course with the repairs. If we can get the engines that Laiserta repaired installed back in the ship then we're ready to take off. There's no time to waste," Armada continued while Trunks finished putting on his jacket and strapping his sword around his chest.

 

Armada turned to her left to look at Trunks. "Whoever it is, we'll lead them away from the ship," she explained.

 

Trunks nodded in agreement. "Right."

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Oh?”

 

“What is it sis?” the black-haired man flying beside her asked when his sister suddenly spoke up.

 

Lazelle Delreyes smiled to herself before suddenly coming to a stop, her brother copying her action. Lazelle lifted her sunglasses up, propping them up on the top of her head. She brushed a few errant strands of her light blonde hair from her eyes before regarding her brother. “Don't you sense it?” she asked, still smiling.

 

Tessellus Delreyes smiled and nodded to his sister, his black hair bobbing with the motion. “It seems our targets are coming to greet us,” he remarked, removing his sunglasses from his face and folding them neatly before sliding one of the temples into a pocket on the front of his vest, leaving the lenses to dangle from the pocket. “This should be interesting,” Tessellus added with mirth.

 

“Don't let your guard down,” Lazelle responded, her tone still lackadaisical. “Remember, they managed to kill both Corvus _and_ Preva,” she continued. “One or the other I could chalk up to luck or circumstance, but not both.”

 

“The man is the one with the power,” Tessellus replied, “but we shouldn't underestimate the woman either. She's accomplished quite a lot on her own.”

 

Lazelle took a moment to stretch out her arms as she and her brother floated above a wide-open ocean with no sight of land in the distance. After stretching her arms, she rolled her neck and shrugged her shoulders. “This should make for an interesting fight then,” she added with a smirk.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks could tell by how far they had flown that Jakotsu was a large world—larger than Earth and Bmyhad, at any rate. Despite the distance, it didn't take long for them to reach their destination, especially since their enemies had stopped moving just a few moments before he and Armada arrived.

 

Trunks and Armada came to immediate stop, floating in the air above an ocean while regarding the two people waiting for them merely ten meters away. Upon seeing their forms, Trunks grimaced. Before him floated a young man with black hair parted to the left side of his face, hanging down below his jawline, and a young woman with long light blonde hair tied back into a bun on the back of her head. Their faces were similar to one another, with fine features and pale greenish-grey eyes. He could sense that their ki felt eerily similar too, and he knew they were related. Their appearances were so much like  _them—_ the cyborgs Seventeen and Eighteen who had terrorized him and the Earth for almost twenty years. He knew that these two people were not the cyborgs, but his stomach seemed keen on doing flips inside his abdomen anyway.

 

Armada studied the two enemies before her with a hard gaze. They both wore expensive tailored suits, but what was odd was the color; they weren't wearing the standard blue that most Rieve members wore. The man had on a three-piece light grey suit with the sleeves of his shirt and blazer rolled up to his elbows. He also had a Republican assault rifle hanging from his body via a black strap running diagonally across his chest, not unlike the way Trunks's sword was fastened to his chest. The blonde-haired woman wore a dark burgundy colored suit, with a cropped jacket almost like a bolero and high-waisted pants. She too carried an assault rifle, though hers hung across her back unlike her comrade whose weapon hung in front of his left hip. She also had what Armada guessed was a stiletto, a straight edged and thin bladed knife in a holster strapped to her right thigh.

 

“Oh _wow_ ,” the woman spoke first, casually crossing her arms over her chest. “I thought the descriptions of the two of you were jokes,” she laughed darkly. “You really do look like you both crawled out of the dirt on some mudball that just learned to write,” she said, breaking into a full laugh while shaking her head.

 

The man shook his head but for a completely different reason. “My dear sister, we should introduce ourselves first. Remember, they managed to defeat both Preva and Corvus. They are deserving of at least a modicum of respect, no?” he asked, his gaze falling expectantly upon his sister.

 

“Oh I suppose so,” she answered, looking to her brother to speak first.

 

“I am Tessellus Delreyes,” the black-haired assassin spoke cordially, offering a slight bow of the head.

 

“Lazelle Delreyes,” the woman interjected, gazing at the mercenaries with a haughty look.

 

“I would say that it's a pleasure to meet you, but since we're going to kill you that seems a bit dishonest, doesn't it?” Tessellus asked, raising his hands up beside him. “However, there _is_ one thing I'd like to know before we start,” he continued. “I know you're Armada,” he said while looking at the mercenary in question. “But you,” Tessellus turned his head to face Trunks, “you're quite the mystery. There seems to be no data on you, anywhere. Which, considering your skill, is quite amazing,” Tessellus finished, sounding earnestly intrigued.

 

“Oh brother, they may truly _have_ just emerged from the primordial ooze,” Lazelle said, her voice still carrying a hint of sarcasm. “Are we sure they even speak Ferian?” she asked, smirking at Trunks in particular.

 

“Fuck you,” Armada broke in, causing Trunks's gaze to drift over to her on his left. “That enough Ferian for you?” she asked, her eyes and voice both stone.

 

“Lovely,” Lazelle deadpanned, clearly disgusted by Armada's foul language.

 

The four energy-fighters continued to stare one another down for a few more moments before Armada made the first move. Charging forth as fast as she could muster, she flew directly at Tessellus and landed a hard right punch in his face. She held on to his jacket and kept flying, pushing the Rieve enforcer backward as she directed the battle farther away from her comrades and ship they had left behind.

 

Trunks immediately followed Armada's cue, appearing in front of Lazelle and striking her in the chest with his elbow. He chased after her, catching her by the jacket as well and followed Armada. Within moments, Trunks could feel the air around him cool significantly. Lazelle gritted her teeth in his grip before trying to hit Trunks in the chest with her right knee. Trunks released her and pulled back enough to dodge the attack, then proceeded to spin around and nail Lazelle in the face with a kick that sent her flying backwards.

 

Trunks watched as Lazelle's body flew backward into a glacier, causing the ice to crack around her and crumble to the ground.. He quickly realized that Armada had led them into an icy tundra; whether that was her true intent or not Trunks didn't know. But he could barely feel Marice's ki, which told him they were a significant distance from their allies, which was good.

 

When Lazelle floated forward and emerged from the broken ice, she brushed some pieces of ice off of her arms and shoulders. “Well, that was rude,” she spat, before flying at Trunks to attack.

 

Lazelle was faster than Trunks expected based on how she had reacted to his initial attack, but he was not surprised. She threw open-palmed strikes with her hands, leading with the heel of her palm. Her movements were well calculated, but Trunks was able to block or at least deflect every attack. She suddenly fired a ki blast, a pale green in color similar to her eyes, and Trunks barely dodged it. Lazelle went straight into throwing a flurry of attacks at him again, using hands and feet. She wasn't connecting but she smirked, and the hair on the back of Trunks's neck rose.

 

He deflected her last hits and turned to see the same pale-green ki blast coming back at him. Trunks raised his arms, expecting to be hit and hopefully deflect some of the blast when Armada suddenly appeared and knocked the ki blast away with the armor on her forearm. Trunks turned his attention back to Lazelle, and Tessellus floated down to meet Armada at eye level behind Trunks.

 

Tessellus shrugged before launching another attack at Armada, but she was prepared for his assault. She ducked his blows and countered with a hard foot into his abdomen, sending him flying away. She wasted no time in chasing after him, catching up to him in time for him to stop. Armada immediately attacked, diving at him with both feet first from above. Tessellus managed to raise his arms to take the brunt of the kick, but the force of the blow still threw him down into the tundra below, his body disappearing beneath the snow while the frozen ground cracked beneath him from the force of the impact.

 

Without leaving the snow and ice he was buried under, Tessellus stood up and fired a large stream of ki at Armada. Armada quickly dodged, flying down toward to Tessellus to attack him. Just as she reached back to throw a punch at him, Tessellus turned toward her, breaking his arms apart, his ki breaking into two separate streams, one of which he directed at Armada who approached from his right. Armada's eyes widened at the last second as the ki exploded enveloping both of them.

 

Trunks had knocked Lazelle away from him again, but this time she righted herself in the air. Instead of charging back at him, she turned in the air and held her hands out behind her, as if she was reaching for something. Trunks flew at her, when he suddenly realized that one half of the pale green stream of ki that was shooting off into the sky behind Lazelle twisted and moved, like a snake suddenly changing direction.

 

The stream of ki moved toward Lazelle, and she turned while pointing her open palms at Trunks, the energy following her motions. Trunks changed course and flew up into the sky, the stream of ki chasing him. He charged his energy in both hands, before stopping and reaching above his head, firing down at the enemy's attack. His yellow energy collided with the green below, engulfing and disintegrating the attack.

 

No sooner had Tessellus's attack dissipated, Armada surged forth from the smoke and dust and tackled her enemy to the ground in the snow. She proceeded to punch him repeatedly in the face, landing several dozen hard hits before he flew backwards out from under her. She immediately gave chase, and he threw several dozen small ki blasts at her as he flew backward and up into the sky. She dodged all of his attacks easily, when one of those ki blasts circled around and hit her in the back. The resulting explosion was relatively small, but it slowed Armada enough that Tessellus had time to command the remaining ki blasts to change course and come back for her.

 

Several more ki blasts exploded in the same spot, and the resulting cloud of smoke grew in size. Suddenly Armada appeared halfway between the attack and Tessellus in the sky, with her own energy glowing in her hands. She pulled her hands apart in a wide arc, a line of white energy connecting her fists. Armada opened her fists and with a scream, and unleashed her energy. The entire plane between her hands exploded and fired up at Tessellus, a wedge of white energy hurtling toward him. The Rieve enforcer had no time to flee, so he crossed his forearms in front of his face and braced for impact.

 

As soon as her attack had dissipated, Armada flew up toward Tessellus, preparing to attack. Despite the damage to his clothes and the blood on his arms and face, Tessellus didn't appear too worse for wear. He grimaced and backed up slightly, countering Armada's punch with an uppercut of his own. His hit landed, and instead of using the opening to continue his assault, Tessellus grabbed Armada's outstretched right arm with both hands. With a quick spin, Tessellus swung Armada around and threw her down and away from himself.

 

Trunks was exchanging blows with Lazelle when she suddenly stopped blocking his attacks and simply dodged them. She moved backward in small leaps, and Trunks rushed forward into each gap to chase her. She was fast; fast enough to avoid him although he had yet to transform into a Super Saiyan. Trunks moved into another gap that Lazelle had left him when she suddenly turned and fled up into the sky. Before he could give chase, something slammed into his back and drove him down toward the ground.

 

Trunks landed on a plateau of deep snow, tumbling over himself a few times before finally skidding to a stop. Quickly realizing that their enemies weren't chasing them, Trunks pushed himself up to his feet, gulping down breaths of icy air. Armada had been  _thrown_ into him, and landed nearby. She pulled herself up and out of the snow, also rising to her feet.

 

“They've got better teamwork than we do,” Armada stated flatly, glancing to her left at her partner.

 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Trunks replied sarcastically. “They can also control each others energy after firing it,” he added.

 

Armada watched as their two enemies floated in the sky next to each other in the distance, clearly waiting to see what the mercenaries would do next. Armada wiped at some blood running from her mouth before looking to her ally once more.

 

“Let's switch dance partners,” Trunks said while looking at Armada.

 

“Fine by me,” Armada replied, sounding as out of breath as Trunks. She hesitated a moment before speaking once more. “You know that transformation of yours?” she asked, not waiting for a reply. “I think you should use that now,” she finished.

 

Trunks smirked before turning to look up at their enemies once more. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” he said. With a roar Trunks unleashed his energy, transforming into a Super Saiyan. While he was clearly her ally in this fight, the overwhelming energy Trunks had still made Armada nervous. She didn't know where the hell he had ever gained that kind of strength, but in the moment she was grateful that he had it.

 

The mercenaries took off simultaneously, charging directly at their enemies. Armada flew slightly behind Trunks, which still impressed the Earthling. He was charging forth as a Super Saiyan, and she still had the speed to keep up? He smirked to himself; Lazelle would never know what hit her.

 

The mercenaries each aimed for the enemies they had been initially fighting, and then suddenly switched positions at the last second. The assassins weren't prepared for the swap, and simultaneously took hard hits from the mercenary duo. Trunks landed a powerful kick directly into Tessellus's abdomen, sending the assassin flying backward away from him. Armada nailed Lazelle in the face with a hard right elbow before following up with a flurry of punches while the woman had her guard down.

 

Lazelle's vision turned black upon the impact of the mercenary's elbow into the bridge of her nose right between her eyes. She wasn't prepared for the attack, and her defenses were down due to being caught off guard. She took several dozen punches and kicks to the face, chest and abdomen before she finally tried to make a move. After taking a hard punch to the left side of her jaw, Lazelle pushed herself forward and grabbed a fistful of the black suit the mercenary wore just above her collarbone.

 

Armada was surprised by the maneuver but not unprepared for it. Lazelle pressed forward, flying as hard as she could while holding into Armada. She aimed for a mountain in the distance, intending to drive the mercenary down into it. Armada caught on to her plan, and just before making impact with the mountainside, she smacked Lazelle's hand away from her and flew backward toward the mountain. Lazelle's eyes widened in shock as Armada threw her own back and shoulders into the icy rock behind her.

 

Using the mountain as a springboard, Armada pushed herself toward Lazelle while bringing up both of her feet. Lazelle couldn't stop or avoid the kit, and Armada stomped onto Lazelle's chest with both feet. The impact was too great for Lazelle, and she was suddenly silent as she clutched at her chest. Fairly certain that she had collapsed her enemy's lungs, Armada raised up both of her hands above her head, joining them into a fist that she brought down on top of Lazelle's head, sending her hurtling straight down toward the ground at the base of the mountainside.

 

Armada flew down toward Lazelle, preparing to stomp on her body. At the last moment, Lazelle rolled and flew out of the way, just in time to avoid being smashed into the icy rocks below the thick layer of ice and snow as Armada slammed into the ground.

 

Lazelle had hopped up to her feet and wiped at the river of blood leaking from her shattered nose. She was gasping for breath as Armada landed ten meters away, settling into an offensive stance. Lazelle reached down and pulled the stiletto from its sheath on her right thigh, quickly flipping it over in her hand until she held the blade pointed down along her right forearm.

 

Armada smirked. “I was wondering when you were to draw that,” she said, her dark gaze indicating her excitement at the Rieve enforcer's choice to use her knife.

 

“I wouldn't be smiling if I were you,” Lazelle replied. “I'm an expert with this weapon, and you're unarmed. You're at a significant disadvantage.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Armada replied with a smirk.

 

Growling in response, Lazelle charged at Armada, swinging with both fists and the knife, even swapping which hand she held the knife in as she attacked. Armada used her forearm guards to block Lazelle's strikes with her stiletto while dodging and avoiding the rest of her hits.

 

After kicking Tessellus away, Trunks appeared behind the man's body as it flew through the air, planting a hard kick into the center of the gangster's back. The force was enough to stop Tessellus's momentum through the air, and he bent over forward and away from Trunks. Feigning injury for a moment, Tessellus reached into his jacket as he kept bending over, finally facing Trunks while upside-down in front of the demi-Saiyan. He immediately threw his hand out from his blazer in an arc, aiming for Trunks's face.

 

Trunks was confused by the movement until he realized that the assassin had thrown half a dozen knives at him from within his jacket. Unable to block the attack, Trunks reached up and drew his sword with a flash, slicing down and knocking away the knives. Tessellus immediately followed up his knife attack with a ki blast, which Trunks easily deflected with his sword, knocking it down toward the ground.

 

Not waiting for another attack, Trunks swung his sword down at Tessellus who was still upside-down in the air. Unable to back away in time, the assassin grabbed the black assault rifle hanging at his left hip and lifted it up, using it to block Trunks's sword. Metal clanged against metal as Trunks kept swinging with his sword, and Tessellus barely blocked in time. Sparks flew as pieces of the metal weapon were chipped away at the barrel, and the gangster knew he couldn't keep deflecting his enemy's attacks with the rifle.

 

Tessellus pushed the rifle forward before Trunks swung his sword, giving the gangster just enough room to charge and fire a quick pale green ki blast up at the mercenary. Trunks backed up and turned, easily dodging the attack. Tessellus rushed forward, righting himself in the air as he slammed the heel of his palm into the inside of Trunks's left wrist. The force was enough to loosen Trunks's grip on his sword, which Tessellus used to his advantage. He reached forward with his other hand and wrested Trunks's sword from his grasp.

 

With the sword in his possession, Tessellus immediately started swinging at Trunks. As a Super Saiyan, Trunks easily dodged the strikes, waiting for the right moment to counterattack. Tessellus put more force into a large downward swing, leaving himself open at the end of his strike. Tessellus was powerful and strong, that much Trunks could tell, but he couldn't maintain his speed when he struck with more power. After easily avoiding the swing, Trunks quickly elbowed Tessellus in the chest and then the face before grabbing the gangster's wrist holding his sword and sharply yanking it. Tessellus had no choice but to release the sword.

 

As the sword flipped and fell, Trunks snatched it up and with a move faster than Tessellus could follow, sliced up on the inside of the Rieve assassin's right arm and leg. The assassin was able to react as soon as he felt the attack slice his leg, and moved back enough that his arm was cut but not severed. The attack was still devastating to his ability to fight, and Tessellus immediately knew it. Without hesitation, he flew backward away from Trunks and reached behind his back with his left hand.

 

Trunks's eyes widened as the assassin pulled out a small silver orb that looked like a grenade. Trunks prepared to block or move away if Tessellus threw the grenade at him, but the Rieve enforcer instead pressed a button on the silver sphere before tossing it lazily into the air above them. The grenade exploded, but hardly made more than a small spark of smoke. As soon as Trunks realized what had really happened, his eyes widened in shock; he was too late to stop Tessellus's gambit.

 

Lazelle made another charge at Armada with the stiletto in her hand, aiming to stab the mercenary in the neck. Armada deflected the blow with the armor of her right forearm before snatching Lazelle's forearm with her left hand. With the assassin in her grasp, Armada spun the woman's arm around and slammed her into the ground, causing Lazelle to drop her weapon. Wasting no time, Armada immediately snatched up the knife from the ground and impaled Lazelle's right palm with the knife, burying it into the frozen ground.

 

“Aaaahh!” Lazelle screamed in pain, the blood from her hand staining the white snow. Armada leaned over the woman, looking down into her eyes while her left hand still held on to the handle of the long knife.

 

“Who's the expert now?” Armada asked before sadistically twisting the knife, causing Lazelle to scream out again in pain.

 

Lazelle glared at Armada before reaching up and firing an energy blast at point-blank range into the mercenary's face. Armada released the knife to raise up both arms and try to defend against the attack. Lazelle reached over and pulled the knife out of her hand the ground, before scrambling backward to get away from her adversary.

 

In her rush to get up, Lazelle left the knife behind on the ground near Armada. Blood dripped down into the snow from the gangster's injured right hand as she experimentally clenched and unclenched her fist. Armada stared at Lazelle with a stony gaze; she slowly settled into another stance, this time with her hands open.

 

The two women stared one another down without moving, both debating the next course of attack. Before either made their move, something shifted in the atmosphere. Armada felt a wave of  _something_ wash through her, and the moment it passed she realized that her energy had fallen out of her grasp.  _Minovsky field...!_ Armada realized with wide eyes.

 

Lazelle smirked before reaching over her head and pulling out the assault rifle that was hanging on her back. Standing ten meters away, Armada had little time to think to avoid being shot. She saw the assassin's knife still laying in the snow to her left. Just as Lazelle gripped her weapon with both hands and leveled it at Armada, preparing to fire, the mercenary dove down to the ground on her left and rolled, picking up the stiletto by the blade in her right hand as she rolled over it.

 

As soon as she was back up on her knees, Armada threw the knife at Lazelle. The long knife hit home and impaled Lazelle in the abdomen. She glanced down at the knife, her hand squeezing the trigger on her weapon. She fell backwards, her shots going wide of Armada before her back finally hit the ground.

 

As soon as Trunks realized what Tessellus had done, it was too late to do anything about. The Super Saiyan's hair faded, his aura dissipating around him as the Minovsky field took away his ability to manifest and control his ki. Tessellus suffered the same fate, and both men plummeted down to the ground below them. Trunks wasn't sure how far they fell, but he knew from the impact into the ice and snow below that knocked the wind out of him that it wasn't a trivial distance.

 

At some point the wind had picked up and started blowing snow that was already on the ground back into the air. Trunks clawed at the ground until he was able to force himself up to at least one knee. He looked around wildly; Tessellus was right in front of him when they fell but the assassin was suddenly nowhere to be seen.  _He couldn't have gone far,_ Trunks thought, listening hard for any sound that might give away his enemy's position.

 

Trunks forced himself to stand on both feet, glancing around him in all directions. The snow blowing around in the air made the area around him a white-out from twenty feet and farther out. Which meant that Tessellus would have to get close to him as well.

 

Hearing a click behind him, Trunks spun around to see Tessellus standing just within his field of vision, his assault rifle pointed directly at Trunks. Before Trunks had a chance to move, he heard gunshots – but they weren't from Tessellus's gun. The mobster's grey suit suddenly had several red stains in it which grew larger as he bled from several gunshot wounds to the center of his body.

 

Tessellus gritted his teeth as his body shook and he choked where he stood. His hands were unsteady and he couldn't keep his aim on the mercenary in front of him, but if he was going down he wasn't going without a fight. Tessellus fell backward, his right hand pulling the trigger on his weapon, firing several shots before the assassin's body collapsed into the snow.

 

“ _Trunks!!”_

 

Trunks turned around to look up at Armada. She'd screamed his name and sounded panicked, but why? She was standing at the edge of an icy cliff, maybe thirty feet above him, holding what appeared to be the twin assault rifle to the one that Tessellus had just fired. Suddenly a pain jolted Trunks's attention from his comrade, and he slowly looked down, his right hand coming up to his abdomen. He touched his shirt and realized he was bleeding?  _Since when...?_ Trunks thought, coughing as he realized he'd been shot several times by Tessellus's weapon as the assassin fell.

 

Armada watched in horror as Trunks slowly fell to his knees, apparently in shock that he'd been shot. Despite her inability to fly to him, Armada didn't hesitate. She tried to run down the cliff-side, since it wasn't a straight drop, but quickly lost her footing on the ice, falling down and tumbling over herself down the cliff until she landed in the snow at the bottom.

 

Despite slamming her jaw against a jagged rock on the way down, which caused her to bleed from her mouth yet again, Armada scrambled to her feet and sprinted over to Trunks, who had fallen over onto his back.

 

“Trunks!” Armada shouted as she ran over to him and knelt next to him, sliding as she did so. She pushed open his jacket, trying to get a clear idea of how many gunshot wounds he had sustained. He had a trail of four bullet holes in his body, leading from his left hip up and across this abdomen to the right side of his chest. She reached down to her belt and opened a compartment, pulling out two small white tubes of bio-foam.

 

“That asshole shot me,” Trunks said as he looked up at Armada, his voice indicating his disbelief.

 

“I know,” Armada replied, tearing open one of the tubes with her mouth. She began pouring the bio-foam into the first of Trunks's gunshot wounds, before quickly moving on to the second. “I'm sorry,” Armada said as she finished with the first tube. She ripped open the second and began filling the last two of Trunks's wounds. “It's my fault; I didn't get him fast enough,” Armada explained, focused on the task at hand.

 

As soon as she finished filling the wounds with bio-foam, Armada leaped up and sprinted away from Trunks. He was going to ask her what she was doing, when he saw that she had stopped near the spot where Tessellus's body had fallen beneath the snow. After a few seconds of grabbing whatever she could, Armada ran back over to her comrade and knelt beside him once more. She had grabbed the white shirt, grey vest and jacket from the assassin's body, all three now littered with blood stains and burns. Armada began ripping the material apart, starting with the shirt.

 

“What are you doing?” Trunks asked as she worked. He'd never been shot before, but it hurt a hell of a lot more than he thought it would. He did his best to maintain somewhat normal breathing, but he knew it would be much harder once the adrenaline of the fight wore off.

 

“We have to get out of here,” Armada explained, not bothering to look at him. “You can't move though, because the bio-foam is keeping you from bleeding out. If you move around too much, the foam breaks down and falls apart, and you start bleeding again,” she explained, struggling as she moved on to tearing apart the grey blazer.

 

Once she had ripped the clothing to her satisfaction, Armada had Trunks sit up slowly and hold on to her neck. She reached around his abdomen, wrapping his body with the ripped clothing she had taken from their fallen enemy. “We need to keep your wounds wrapped as tight as we can to minimize the blood loss,” she explained, pulling hard as she worked.

 

“This hurts like hell,” Trunks said, grimacing as she pulled again, a searing pain shooting up his spine from one of the lower gunshot wounds.

 

“I know,” Armada replied flatly as she worked. “I'm sorry.”

 

“No, I get it,” Trunks replied, his voice tight. He was never a big fan of pain, but he could have sworn that injuries far worse than a few gunshot wounds hurt way less when he had control of his energy.

 

Armada finished her work and slowly set Trunks down to lay on his back in the snow again. He noticed that her hands were completely red with blood – his blood? He wasn't sure. He looked up at her and caught her eyes, and her expression frightened him. She was  _scared_ , and he'd rarely seen that look on her. “Can you take out the Minvosky generator now?” Trunks asked, hoping that once he had his energy it would be a quick trip back to the ship.

 

Armada grimaced and her gaze fell away from his, her fists clenching in her lap. “It's not a Minovsky generator,” she began, “it's a Minovsky bomb. It creates a temporary Minovsky field by flooding the area with Minovsky particles,” Armada explained, his visage still sullen.

 

Trunks knew what he needed to ask, but he dreaded the question. “How temporary?”

 

His comrade's eyes finally met his again. “Too long,” she answered. “We have to go,” she said, rising to stand next to him.

 

The Earthling opened his mouth to ask her what she wasn't telling him, when she reached down and pulled him up into a sitting position. While still holding on to his right hand, Armada turned her back to him and crouched, pulling his right arm around her neck. He wanted to ask her what she was doing, but she answered before he had the chance to open his mouth to speak. “You can't walk, so grab on,” she explained.

 

“Armada,” Trunks tried to protest.

 

“Just shut up and listen to me!” she shouted angrily. “There is no time, so just grab on!” she reiterated. The wind chose that particular moment to pick up and howl in the distance, as if the elements themselves were on her side. Trunks acquiesced, and wrapped both of his arms around her shoulders.

 

Armada stood, and Trunks's grip on her tightened as he tried to stand on his feet. She reached back and grabbed both of his legs, her hands burying into his pants, and leaned forward while pulling his legs up on either side of her hips. She struggled for a moment to get a decent grip on his legs, and eventually settled with wrapping her hands around the outside and under his thighs. Finally steady on her feet, Armada thought for a moment before finally walking forward, passing by Tessellus's body as she trudged through the snow.

 

Despite the pain and panic trying to creep into him, Trunks was still conscious enough to understand what was happening. He didn't say anything as Armada walked, but he noticed when her footing slipped on the ice that was undoubtedly underneath the snow that rose to her knees and sometimes higher. After about fifteen minutes and more near-falls than Trunks could count, he couldn't take it anymore.

 

“Armada stop,” Trunks suddenly said. “Let me walk with you,” he pleaded. He couldn't take this, he couldn't watch her struggle to carry him when he felt like he could walk on his own two feet.

 

“If you walk you'll destroy the bio-foam and bleed out,” Armada snapped at him.

 

Trunks fell silent for a moment. “How far do we have to go?” he asked, obviously referring to the range of the Minovsky bomb.

 

“I don't know,” Armada replied, her voice losing its hard edge.

 

Trunks didn't press for more answers. He could tell from her tone that she didn't have them, and his goal wasn't to make her feel bad about their situation. As she marched through the snow, Trunks slowly felt himself nodding off. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, and the shock from being shot was setting in. Eventually his head fell forward, against the back of Armada's right shoulder, and he was lost to reality for a time.

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Something's wrong,” Laiserta said flatly, breaking the silence that had descended between the three women as they worked.

 

“We know,” Naya replied, her tone morose. “We could be killed at any moment,” she added.

 

“No,” Laiserta turned to Naya, the retired general sitting at the ship's main console in the bridge while Laiserta stood stood off to her right. “Not that,” Laiserta explained. “If wonder boy and spider-head lost, then whoever killed them would have already come here and killed us.” Naya turned and looked at Laiserta. “But they haven't. That means that Trunks and Armada are still alive,” Laiserta finished.

 

“We don't know that,” Naya replied, afraid to hold out hope that after sixteen hours that her comrades would suddenly appear.

 

“Either way, someone comes back for us,” Laiserta countered. “Either our allies come back to us, or our enemies come to finish us off. But _no one_ has showed up,” she said, taking a step toward Naya. Laiserta spared a glance at Marice before looking at Naya once more. “That means they're still alive, but that they can't get to us. And what would stop them from coming back?”

 

“A Minovsky field?” Marice quietly asked from the opposite end of the bridge.

 

“Exactly!” Laiserta exclaimed, smiling at Marice. She turned to Naya once more. “We gotta get the ship's scanners online. If we can scan the planet, then we can find them,” she finished.

 

Naya nodded at Laiserta. “Okay,” she acquiesced. “Let's focus on repairing the long-range scanners. We should be good to take off when we're ready, although we haven't tested it.”

 

Laiserta laughed before moving to sit at the console to Naya's right. “The true test will be that we don't blow up when we try to launch this thing.”

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks opened his eyes, blinking several times as he'd suddenly forgotten where he was and what was going on. It didn't take long for him to remember that he'd been shot, since the wounds still burned despite the freezing temperatures around him. Trunks lifted his head and took a look around; Armada was still carrying him on her back and they were still within an icy tundra. The scenery was a bit different though, instead of mountains and glaciers, Armada trudged on through snow up to her knees without any visible mountains in the distance. The sky was somewhat dark, however; Trunks could tell it was still daylight outside but the sun was blotted out by thick clouds and snow blowing through the air creating near white-out conditions.

 

Trunks tightened his grip on Armada's shoulders, and shortly after doing so noticed how much she trembled as she moved. At first he thought she was just shivering, a natural reaction in the cold and the body's defense to keep itself warm. But soon after she took a few slower steps, he realized that she was shaking because her muscles were spasming as she walked – spasming from overexertion and exhaustion.

 

“Armada,” Trunks said, his voice coming out weaker than he'd intended. “Armada,” he repeated with more force, “please stop. You need to rest,” he added, hoping to talk some reason into her.

 

“No,” she replied flatly, not missing a beat.

 

“You can't keep going like this,” Trunks tried to argue with her.

 

“There's no time to rest,” Armada replied, turning her head slightly to her right to glance at Trunks from the corner of her eyes.

 

“Damnit Armada, I can feel how badly you're shaking because you've pushed yourself too far,” Trunks responded, her refusal to listen to him pissing him off. She turned to face forward and ignored his words. “You need to stop and rest _now!_ ” Trunks shouted, feeling the anger well up in him at her _stupid_ , stubborn actions.

 

Armada stopped walking and growled. “You dumb bastard, do you really think I'm going to take orders from _you?!_ ” she screamed, not bothering to try and look at the man she carried on her back. “Do us _both_ a favor and _shut the hell up!_ ” she angrily spat. Without waiting for a reply from Trunks, Armada started walking, sending a clear signal that she didn't want to discuss the matter further.

 

Trunks fell silent, but not because she had told him to. Rather, he was stewing in his own anger at her. She wanted to walk until she passed out from exhaustion? _Fine then,_ he thought bitterly. _Have it your way._ As Armada walked and Trunks retreated into his own head, he finally realized how stiff his body had become. He felt like he hadn't moved in _hours_ , but he couldn't have been out that long, right? He didn't know how long a day was on Jakotsu, and while the sun was blocked out by thick cloud-cover and heavy snow, it _was_ still daylight outside.

 

The freezing climate cooled Trunks's anger, and he knew only one person who could tell him with any reliability exactly how long he had been unconscious. Was he asleep? Did he pass out? He wasn't sure. Regardless, he knew that Armada would know the answer. Perhaps she would talk if it wasn't about him telling her to stop.

 

“How long was I out?” Trunks asked, his gaze and voice equally sullen. Armada didn't respond right away, and Trunks wondered if perhaps she hadn't heard him over the roar of the wind. He finally opened his mouth to repeat his question when she stopped him short.

 

“All night,” Armada replied flatly, her voice devoid of any emotion.

 

Trunks's eyes widened in shock. _All night...?_ Not knowing how long a day was on Jakotsu, Trunks couldn't be sure exactly how long that was, but still – he was out long enough for _the sun to set and rise again?_ He'd lost track of time before, usually back when he'd been badly injured fighting the cyborgs, but this was a first for him, completely losing himself to another day. Then again, he'd never been this injured and unable to leave to get treatment. Were the gunshot wounds he'd suffered really so bad?

 

Before Trunks had a chance to really form his emotions into a coherent thought, he felt Armada slip. Her left foot slid forward down a small embankment, and she was too slow to move to make up for the mistake. She fell forward, landing face-down into the snow at the bottom of the small hill, Trunks laying on her back just the same as she'd been carrying him. She pushed herself up above the snow, and gingerly pushed Trunks off of her. He let go, rolling off to the right.

 

Armada gasped for breath, barely holding her head above the snow. Trunks watched as her arms shook, the muscles completely spent and begging for rest. She gritted her teeth, slowly dragging her legs forward until she was at least propped up on her hands and knees. He felt sick watching her; she'd carried him for Kami knew how long and was fighting to keep going. He couldn't take it, he couldn't watch her suffer on his behalf.

 

“Just go,” Trunks said and let out a heavy breath, holding himself up above the snow by leaning back on his elbows. “Leave me here and go. I'm slowing you down too much,” he explained, his tone morose to match his mood. If he wasn't going to make it out of the tundra, out of the Minovsky field and off of Jakotsu alive, he'd be damned if he going to drag Armada to her death with him.

 

Armada's gaze turned over to Trunks, and he recognized something in her dark blue eyes but he wasn't sure what it was exactly. “Hey _asshole_ ,” she hissed, “shut up.” She was still shaking and breathing hard, but she glared at him with a determination Trunks wasn't sure he'd seen from her before.

 

“No point in both of us dying,” Trunks explained, letting his head fall backward into the snow. He stared up at the snow being blown around in the sky above him. “You can make it on your own. Carrying me is too much to ask,” he added, his eyes narrowing at the sky above while he clenched his right fist.

 

“Stop... stop talking...”

 

Trunks was stunned by Armada's words. He forced his head back up again to look at her. She glared at him as she forced herself to her feet, swaying a moment when she finally stood. She took one step toward Trunks before reaching down and pulling him up off the ground by the collar of his blue Capsule Corporation jacket.

 

Trunks barely got his feet under him to stand when Armada released his jacket and turned her back to him while taking his left arm in her left hand. He was standing slightly right-of-center relative to his comrade, and she turned her head so she could look at him. “For once in your life,” she began, her voice low but hard, “just shut the hell up and listen to me!”

 

Despite the high winds, her voice seemed to echo in the distance. Or was it just in his own head that it echoed? Trunks wasn't sure. But the way she had scolded him, the fiery look in her eyes, and the overall ridiculousness of the situation when he was willing to lay down his life so she could escape – it all came together in a swift moment and made him crack.

 

He started laughing.

 

Armada continued to glare at Trunks, though she said nothing. She was confused by his outburst and not sure what to say to him. He continued laughing for a moment before finally coming back down to reality. “I wish I'd known sooner how to piss you off this badly,” Trunks laughed, a sarcastic smile on his face. Armada continued to glare at him when he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest and leaning forward to rest his forehead against the back of her head. “Okay, you win,” Trunks said lowly, his mood falling. “I'll shut up now.”

 

After taking a knee to get him hitched up onto her back again, and securing her arms under his legs, Armada began walking once more. She still struggled, and Trunks could still feel how exhausted she was, but he was exhausted too – he had already lost the will to argue with her. He wasn't sure how much more he wanted to fight her when she was so determined to get them both out.

 

No more than maybe a dozen steps from where she had fallen, Armada spoke. “We have come too far for me to leave your ass here,” she said, her voice stony yet tired. “So just shut up and let me handle this,” she finished. Her tone said otherwise, but Trunks understood her words to be a plea for him to trust her. He had asked for her trust on Belos, and she had given it to him. Didn't he owe her the same?

 

 

-+-

 

 

The sun had long since disappeared, and Armada stumbled forward in the dark. Whether the stars, or a moon or two above could provide any light, she didn't know. The clouds providing the snowstorm blocked out any light from above. If nothing else, at least she had cleared the mountainous region. So while the trek was slow due to the darkness and her own exhaustion, she didn't have to worry about falling off of a cliff and down a mountain.

 

Armada hesitated as she stepped forward with her right foot. As soon as her foot hit solid ground under the snow, her muscles gave out and she fell forward, landing on her left knee. She heard Trunks mutter something to her, but she couldn't hear him. All she saw was a tunnel of snow before her, spinning and swirling into a vortex of darkness. She wasn't sure if what she saw was reality or just her own tired mind and eyes which couldn't see straight, but it didn't matter. “Shut up, asshole,” Armada said, her voice weak to her own ears. She just needed to get up and take another step forward, that's all. It was such a simple thing, but her body started to feel like the blood was frozen in her veins.

 

_If she keeps pushing herself like this, we're both going to die,_ Trunks thought bitterly. He didn't want to die, and he didn't want Armada to die either. Yet, a part of him was grateful to her. She refused to leave him behind, and there was a part of him that swelled with pride at the thought. He would never have given her that kind of credit even just weeks ago. Something had changed; something had shifted between them and he still wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was trust. Or respect. Whatever it was, he finally believed that she was on his side; she was his ally, his comrade, his partner, and she wasn't going to leave him behind.

 

Incredibly, Armada found the strength to rise to her feet again and continue walking forward. She swayed slightly when a powerful gust of wind pushed at her from her left, but she didn't fall. She gritted her teeth as she walked; she'd be damned if out of all the things she had been through in her life, that the thing to kill her would be a damn blizzard. What a joke.

 

The burst of determination that got her back to her feet didn't last long. After moving forward maybe another ten meters, Armada collapsed again, falling onto her hands and knees. Since Armada released Trunks's legs to catch herself on her hands, the demi-Saiyan was basically on his knees behind her while his arms were still wrapped around the front of her neck and shoulders. Trunks grimaced as he realized they weren't going to make it. He released his grip on his comrade and pushed himself away from her, falling into the snow and rolling onto his back.

 

Trunks stared up into the darkness above, struggling to keep his eyes open. _I'm sorry mom,_ Trunks thought, his mother's image appearing in his mind's eye. The worst part was knowing that she would never know what happened to him. He went to Ute one day and never came home. If nothing else, Trunks hoped that Neis and Lowell would keep his mother safe. The androids were dead but that didn't mean the Earth had suddenly become a safe, peaceful place. There was still a lot of work to do. Work that Trunks would never make it back to help with, or even see.

 

He stared up into the sky as the darkness above seemed to move and morph, and suddenly something glowed. He couldn't tell what it was, when suddenly the light shot down straight into his eyes. The burning brightness made him close his eyes, and he was lost to the world.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks jolted awake, startled by the feeling that he somehow _needed_ to get up. He gasped and turned slightly, to see black hair and red eyes staring down at him with a soft smile.

 

“Hey,” Laiserta called sweetly, standing at his bedside. “You're okay. We're on our way back to Ute now,” she explained.

 

Trunks's eyes left Laiserta's to glance around the room momentarily. He found himself in one of the beds in back of the infirmary, blankets covering him up to his neck. His limbs were heavy, almost like something was weighing him down. It took a moment for him to realize that it was the drowsiness associated with medicine. Probably something to help him deal with the pain.

 

Suddenly Trunks remembered what had happened and his eyes widened in shock before shooting up to meet Laiserta's gaze. “Armada,” he started but she cut him off.

 

“She's fine,” Laiserta answered. “She's still out, but she's in bed in her room. Marice is watching her.” Trunks wanted to say something, but his mind was sluggish and he couldn't form the thoughts into words. “We'll be in Ute in a few hours,” Laiserta added. “Get some rest. We've got you,” she smiled, preparing to step away.

 

“Wait,” Trunks managed to force out, his voice hoarse. Laiserta didn't move, simply looking down into his eyes while she listening for whatever he was going to say next. “How much farther did we have to go?” Trunks asked. Laiserta's eyebrows tightened in a manner that said she was confused, and Trunks recognized the action. “To get out of the Minovsky field,” he explained.

 

Laiserta's eyes fell and she smiled sadly. “Just get some rest, okay?” The Taydran woman turned and walked out of the infirmary, switching off the lights when she exited.

 

Trunks's right fist clenched as his eyes fell shut. Laiserta's reaction was enough alone to tell him that unless their comrades had showed up when they did, he and Armada would never have made it out alive.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, I would love to know what you think, good or bad. :] I hope the action wasn't too confusing in this chapter. It's a challenge for me to write multiple characters fighting at the same time in the same area, so I hope I did decently enough that the visuals are communicated through properly. It's actually getting harder to write these chapters as we get closer to the most important parts of this fanfic, as there are sooooo many things I want to include but there's just not enough “time.” By 'time' I mean that I would bore you poor readers to death with books of backstory and setup when the meat of the fic, so-to-speak, should be the main plot and not what character X was doing ten years ago. So please tell me if I'm dwelling too much on any one point or scene. I try to strike a balance between covering the scene and relaying all of the important aspects of the scene (including characters' feelings in addition to items germane to the plot) while still moving the story forward. I know how frustrating it is as a reader to read something and feel like the author is wasting your time and not moving the plot forward. So I hope I'm not doing that.

 

Hopefully I will be posting some updated character sheets to my DeviantArt soon, so keep an eye out there. I will leave a note like this on a chapter once those are uploaded, so you can get a good idea of what many of our main characters (and villains!) look like. :]

 

Please leave a review if you have the time, I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you again!

 

-Silvia

 

Today's lyrical content courtesy of “Unity” by Shinedown.

 


	26. Interlude:  Narakesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Armada are left in Ute by themselves, and as they prepare to leave to pick up supplies a very unexpected visitor appears.

 

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

 

 

-+-

 

 

_Trunks stared down into Armada's eyes, his own eyebrows drawn together in concentration. The full moon above in the night sky lit up the lawn of Capsule Corporation, so it wasn't an issue of being able to see. Trunks's hands were joined to hers as he counted in his head, doing his best to stay in step with her as they danced. Her gaze was equally serious to his, and they moved with precision, as if their lives depended on it. Trunks was wearing a black tuxedo with a black shirt underneath, and deep blue tie, the same color as his partner's eyes. She had her hair pulled back into a bun, minus her long bangs, while wearing a floor-length dark blue gown. There was some sort of golden decorative metal piece on the front of it, running diagonally across her torso. Trunks wasn't paying much attention to what she was wearing, since he was so focused on staying in step with her._

 

_A sudden bright flash of light blinded Trunks and his partner, and they stopped their dance to shield their eyes. When Trunks opened his eyes, fires blazed around them, and the buildings of West City burned. Trunks stared at the scene in shock, suddenly pulled from his thoughts when he heard a woman scream._

 

_Trunks's head snapped around to see his mother, having just stepped outside onto the lawn, falling to her knees as tears fell from her eyes. “Trunks, why did you bring them here?!” she yelled, her voice already cracking from her sobs. “You've doomed us all!”_

 

_Trunks instinctively turned away from his mother and toward the city, to see three men standing at the edge of the lawn where the flames burned the brightest. In the center stood Ryan Rieve, and flanking him at each side were Corvus and Preva._

 

_Armada' turned and her gaze landed on Trunks. “I'll take Corvus and Preva, you hold off Rieve!” she shouted before taking off, flying up into the sky and away from the main Capsule Corporation building and Trunks's home._

 

_Trunks wanted to yell after her to wait, but couldn't find his voice. “Come on you dumbasses, I'll take you on!” Armada shouted down to their enemies. Corvus and Preva smirked before charging directly at her. Trunks glanced back at Ryan Rieve who only smirked in response._

 

_Panicking at the Rieve boss's reaction, Trunks turned to look up at his comrade in the sky. “Armada, no!” he shouted, finally able to speak but seemingly unable to lift his feet from the ground. Corvus and Preva charged their energy and fired in unison, two powerful beams of energy headed straight for Armada. She squared up to deflect them, raising her bare arms to defend herself._

 

_Trunks watched in horror as the energy exploded around her, engulfing both Armada and their enemies in its light._

 

Trunks opened his eyes and let out a deep breath, the momentary panic he felt falling away quickly. Someone had previously adjusted his hospital bed, so when he awoke he was already in a seated position.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

Trunks's eyes finally focused and looked over at Dr. Rema, who stood nearby while typing away on a tablet in his hands. The doctor's eyes were still drawn down on his tablet as Trunks remained silent. Concerned that his patient wasn't responding, Dr. Rema stopped working on the tablet and looked up at Trunks.

 

“Good,” Trunks said, nodding as he did so.

 

“Any pain?” the doctor asked.

 

“No, none at all,” Trunks answered, almost astonished the more he thought about it. He didn't feel the dullness of his senses associated with heavy medication. Was he already completely healed? How long had he been out since the surgery?

 

“Well you're in luck,” Dr. Rema explained. “None of the GSWs hit any vital organs, and the ones that were hit were very easy to repair. Medical technology has advanced greatly in the realm of treating gunshot wounds, so you're good to go,” he finished.

 

“Really?” Trunks replied, his eyes widening in surprise.

 

“Well you need to stay for a few more hours for observation to make sure you don't start developing an infection, but yes, you'll be free to go soon,” Dr. Rema finished. He smiled at Trunks, a smile that reminded him of the way the older man had smiled at Marice when Trunks was here with her last.

 

“Thank you,” Trunks said in earnest. “Thank you for helping me, and for everything you've done for Armada, too,” he added, genuine in his gratitude.

 

“Hah,” Dr. Rema scoffed, the more sarcastic smirk that Trunks was accustomed to returning to the doctor's face. “That's a good one, trying to butter me up so I'll tell you whatever you want to know,” he said, and Trunks's face immediately displayed his confusion at the doctor's words. “Come on now, I'm not that dumb,” Rema added sardonically. “Besides, I'm not authorized to spill state secrets,” he finished.

 

“I've got another surgery,” Rema changed the subject, his gaze falling back down to the screen of the tablet in his hands. “So I won't see you again by the time you leave. I'll make sure you're cleared barring any signs of infection or other complications, of which I expect none,” he continued, working at the tablet as he spoke.

 

Dr. Rema turned and headed for the door to the small hospital room, but stopped after taking just a few steps. “Oh, by the way,” he spoke up, turning quickly to look at Trunks once more. “Do me a favor and tell your boss to kiss my ass, will you?” the doctor asked with a dark smirk.

 

Trunks laughed, his eyes falling shut for a brief moment before he looked back up at Dr. Rema. “Sure thing,” he replied, the smile on his face growing wider. Rema nodded before turning and leaving the room.

 

 

-+-

 

 

_I don't wanna be somewhere_

_Where you can watch me as I bleed_

_Just leave me here_

_In pieces_

 

 

-+-

 

 

Illumination

 

Interlude: Narakesh

 

 

-+-

 

 

Armada sat at the pilot's console in the bridge, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Laiserta left on a job, and Marice sneaked out with Naya on a different job when Armada was away from the ship. She and Trunks were the only two left behind, which was fine with her. She was still concerned that despite being healed, that Trunks needed more rest than he let on. They had been incredibly lucky on Jakotsu, and Armada knew that.

 

The realistic memory hallucinations that Dr. Rema had warned her about after her surgery after the fight with Mikhail in Virda City were still happening, though not at the same rate as before. If there was noise going on around her, something as simple as someone talking, she could focus on that and pull herself out of the memories. But when the ship was quiet while the others slept, she still fell into those old memories, unable to pull herself out of them. Much like she was experiencing where she sat.

 

_Armada looked down at the hand-drawn map laid out on the small table in front of her, the bits and pieces of scrap used to represent different armies and factions placed strategically on the map by the man sitting across from her._

 

“ _In response to the provocation, Mutuus's army marched north, preparing to take on General Valens for what Mutuus considered to be treachery,” Canus explained, moving one of the pieces along the map in front of Armada. Canus's voice held the same scholarly yet hardened edge it always did; it was no different when he was teaching his brother Trajanus and Armada about their home world._

 

_Armada had a hard time focusing on this particular lesson. The three of them had been part of Valencia for over ten years at that point; why did Canus still think they had a chance of returning home? She knew from talking to Trajanus that he felt the same as she did – they would never set foot on Cresselius again. But Canus was still determined to teach them and to train them to be proper noble warriors of the empire, despite their circumstances. He still had hope for a future, something that Armada and Trajanus had lost a long time ago._

 

_The fourteen-year-old couldn't pay attention anymore. It was all so useless, so meaningless, to study about a place she had never really known, to learn about a history that she would never see or experience. She just needed to survive. Sure, that was what old man Valencia had been teaching them day one by beating them all nearly to death every time he “trained” them, but it was true, wasn't it? Canus wanted them to survive to return home, Valencia wanted them to survive so he wouldn't lose his precious soldiers of the Balaurian Infantry. What was the difference? Was there even a difference to begin with?_

 

“ _Armadus,” Canus called to her, and her eyes shot up to meet his. He studied her face, his expression very scrutinizing. His long black hair was the same as always – pulled back away from his face and braided into a long braid that ran down to the base of his spine. He had a few small geometric tattoos on his face, beneath the outside corners of his eyes. They were symbols of his accomplishments as a noble warrior of the Cresselian empire, he had said. Armada often wondered how far he could have gotten at sixteen, when they were taken from Cresselius to supposedly earn those tattoos._

 

“ _What's the point?” Armada asked while looking up at Canus; he was much taller than her and it was evident where they sat around the tiny table in his barracks as he tutored her. Canus's eyes narrowed at Armada as she continued. “Why bother learning about all of this when we'll never use it?” she clarified her earlier question._

 

_Canus stared at her for a short moment before suddenly Armada found herself on the ground, Canus punching her repeatedly in the face, without remorse. After taking twenty-seven hits, which she counted due to her training from Commander General Valencia, Canus finally stopped hitting her with his brutal strength. He stood up and backed a step away from her, and despite the blood running into her eyes, Armada could see that he had knocked over the table with the map and trinkets when he had leaped up to attack her._

 

“ _You will be educated as a proper noble should,” Canus began, “whether you like it or not.” He stared down at her in disdain. “We will not become the ignorant mongrels that Valencia wishes us to be. We are a civilized people, and you will learn about that civilization and respect it,” Canus finished. He let out a deep breath of disappointment. “Clean up this mess,” he spat, before turning on his heel and leaving the barracks._

 

_Armada slowly sat up and gingerly wiped at her face, blood and mucus running down from her nose and mouth, straining her gray uniform._ Suddenly the room around her morphed, the memory distorted and changed, leading into something else. Another memory from the same period of her life.

 

“ _I heard Commander Juvius saying that the Republic's coming after us,” the seventeen year old boy with wild auburn hair, Dax, stated. “If that's true, and they send the full military, then we'll be out of here soon.”_

 

“ _I don't know,” the other seventeen-year-old in the room, Trajanus, replied to Dax. He was much taller than both Dax and Armada, and he stood with his back to one of the washing machines in the laundry cellar, leaning just slightly against the contraption. “People have said that before,” Trajanus continued, his voice both skeptical and sad. “It's never happened.”_

 

“ _The difference is this time we attacked some actual nations in the Republic, even though the old man thought they weren't,” Dax explained. “So now the Republic has to do something, at least that's what Commander Juvius said.”_

 

_Fourteen-year-old Armada sat on the floor in front of one of the dryers, her back leaned against it with her knees pulled up to her chest in front of her. She was listening to her comrades, of course, but her eyes were staring at the floor. Or rather, through the floor, as she was lost in her thoughts._

 

“ _What do you think, Armada?”_

 

_Armada lifted her head and turned slightly to Trajanus, her black-haired comrade looking down at her expectantly. Armada started to notice how much he was beginning to resemble his brother, Canus. At least Trajanus was her friend; his brother was far more severe when it came to both of the children in his charge._

 

“ _I hope the Republic comes after us,” Armada finally replied, her gaze falling down to the metal floor of the laundry cellar again. “They're the only ones who can stop Valencia at this point,” she stated flatly, a fact that both of her comrades, dare she say her friends, knew._

 

“ _You're right,” Trajanus replied, his visage falling. “Those rumors of the PTO resurgence were just rumors. There's no one else willing to take us on,” he added._

 

“ _PTO?” Dax asked, raising an eyebrow at Trajanus._

 

“ _Planetary Trade Organization,” Trajanus replied. “The guys that supposedly used to conquer whole worlds and sell them off to people.”_

 

“ _Oh right, I just forgot the name,” Dax said, using his right fist to knock himself on the head in a demonstration of his forgetfulness._

 

_Armada wanted to keep listening to her comrades talk, because she knew their conversation would continue while they were on laundry detail for their squads, but their voices faded. Soon it was as if she was trying to listen to them underwater; she could hear the tones of their voices to know who was talking, but she couldn't make out any words._

 

_Finally she looked up, and across the room from her was a distorted figure that appeared as if she was trying to look at it through murky water. In her mind, she knew no one else was present at that time. The figure tried to speak, and like her comrades she just heard the tones of his voice. Tones that she recognized. Armada stared harder, and colors started to bleed through – black and blue and purple._

 

“Hey Armada, you hungry? I'm gonna make lunch,” Trunks said, standing a few meters away from where his comrade sat. She had the pilot's seat turned away from the console and faced the back of the bridge.

 

Able to pull herself out of the hallucination by focusing on Trunks's presence, Armada looked up at him. “Yes,” she replied flatly, nodding her head slightly. Trunks shot her a small smile and nodded in return, before walking past her and back through the lounge toward the galley. 

 

Armada watched him leave her sight and let out a sigh of relief. She was thankful that he had walked in when he did, because she really hated those hallucinations.

 

 

-+-

 

 

After eating lunch with her in silence, and then cleaning up in silence, Trunks's mood was somber. He wanted to talk to Armada about what had happened on Jakotsu, specifically her attempts to carry him out of the Minovsky field, but he didn't know what to say. When she left him behind to fight Corvus, she was prepared to die – she didn't ask for his help, and specifically tried to keep him out of it. And while Armada had helped him before, what she did—or tried to do—on Jakotsu was somehow different. She never appeared to be that concerned about saving her own life, but when his was in jeopardy, she pulled out a level of sheer determination that awed Trunks. How had she even possibly walked that long, and that far, while carrying him in the frigid temperatures? He couldn't say that he would have been able to do the same.

 

Not knowing just yet what he wanted to say, Trunks kept the subject to himself. Armada said she was going to head out to pick up some more supplies, and Trunks offered to go with her. She didn't argue with him, and let him follow her when she left the ship and floated down to the floor in the hangar, headed for the door.

 

“I wish you'd back me up when it comes to Marice,” Armada suddenly said, her voice calm yet flat.

 

The sudden topic surprised Trunks as he walked with Armada at her left side. “What?” he asked, surprised. 

 

Armada stopped just in front of the door to the hangar, and turned to face her comrade. “Lai and Naya, they're adults and they made their choice. So did you and I,” Armada explained. “But Marice? She doesn't know what she's getting into. I can't believe you let her leave with Naya,” Armada finished, her mouth turning into a scowl while she  _disappointment_ appeared on her face.

 

“I didn't let Marice leave,” Trunks countered, raising his hands up in front of him in defense. “They left when I was _asleep_ ,” he stressed. “I was not on board with her going with Naya, either. But,” he continued, “while Marice is young, she is technically an adult. Shouldn't we let her make her own decisions for herself?” Trunks asked. He didn't _like_ that Marice wanted to be more involved in the rest of their group's activities, but at the same time, he didn't feel like he had any moral superiority to dictate to Marice how she should live her life. Kami knew what he'd been up to when he was _half_ her age.

 

“Marice grew up on Euphoria,” Armada countered, “she doesn't know how the rest of the universe operates. Even if she is an adult, she doesn't know the full extent of the consequences of her choices. So how is it responsible of us to do nothing when she's making uninformed choices?” Armada asked, her face betraying more concern for the teenager than irritation at her partner standing beside her.

 

Trunks sighed. “You make a good point,” he conceded. “I'll talk to Marice when she gets back. I think she looks up to me, so maybe she'll listen to me,” he added.

 

Armada turned away from Trunks and reached for the panel next to the door leading outside into the city from the hangar. “Well—” 

 

As the door opened, Armada lost her thoughts as a body that was leaned up against the door fell forward when the door slid to the side, landing unceremoniously in her arms. Both mercenaries were shocked, and Trunks stared at the man in Armada's arms. He was  _covered_ in blood, massive amounts of blood stained his clothes so badly that Trunks couldn't make out what the man wore beyond a suit of some dark color. Blood clotted in the man's hair and covered his face, a face that was swollen and bruised and cut from what Trunks could only assume was torture. Trunks glance down into the doorway and saw blood running out into the street from where the man had been standing, the heavy rain falling in the Utian afternoon washing the blood away from the door and out into said street.

 

“Ar... please... help me...”

 

The man in Armada's arms tried to open one eye and look up at her, and Armada's eyes widened in shock. “Dax...!” she said, realization dawning upon her just who was bloodied and beaten on her doorstep. She didn't recognize him from what terrible shape he had been in, but she recognized his voice the moment he spoke.

 

Trunks's blood immediately ran cold. Dax had killed Quarry, and was now  _here, right in front of him,_ begging for help from his partner. Trunks's fists and teeth clenched as pure rage boiled up from inside the center of his being, taking over his body. Armada stooped down and pulled Dax up into her arms, carrying him bridal-style and turning to fly up into the ship with him in tow.

 

“ _Armada!”_

 

Before the mercenary had a chance to lift her feet from the ground, her ally had yelled her name in anger. Armada turned to face him, clearly confused by him.

 

Trunks gritted his teeth as his body shook with rage. “You can't help him!” Trunks shouted, trying his best to maintain his composure. Armada simply stared at him, the same confusion still written across her features. “He killed Quarry!” Trunks added, feeling his own power rise within him despite his best attempts to keep it under control.

 

“We know Rieve killed Quarry, but we don't know if it was Dax that did it—” Armada tried to reason with Trunks, but he cut her off.

 

“ _He was here!_ ” Trunks screamed. “He was here in Ute the day that Quarry was murdered! He said he wasn't here for us, that he came for someone else!”

 

Armada's confusion morphed into pure shock, her eyes widening at Trunks's words. “Dax was here...” she began softly, her voice dying after a few words. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and Armada's eyes narrowed as she too clenched her teeth in anger. “Dax was here, in Ute,  _and you never told me?!_ ” she countered, her voice rising to match the volume that Trunks had yelled at her with. Armada glared at Trunks before turning and finally flying up toward the ship.

 

“ _Stop!_ ” Trunks shouted, and Armada stopped flying only a meter from the ground, but didn't turn to face him. Trunks hesitated a moment before finally continuing. “I'm going to kill him,” Trunks explained. “He killed Quarry and I can't overlook that. Don't help him, Armada.”

 

Armada floated in the air, her back to Trunks, for a long moment before finally turning to look at him again. Trunks's eyes widened when he saw her face; she almost looked... sad? Was it even possible for her to feel sad about anything?

 

“I don't have a choice,” Armada replied, her voice somber to match her visage. “I don't expect you to understand, but I owe him. He asked for my help and I have to help him. Once he's patched up, you can do whatever you want. But until then, if you want to kill Dax,” she paused a moment, contemplating her next words. “You're going to have to go through me,” she finished, her voice severe.

 

She was right; he didn't understand what she was doing, why she was helping Dax. He did know that they were a part of Valencia together, and if Armada was a child soldier then there was a good chance that Dax was, as well. That being the case, Trunks could acquiesce to her request.  _For now_ , he thought bitterly. After she had given him medical treatment and Dax was stable enough to leave... Trunks would never let him see the light of day again.

 

Unable to voice what he truly wanted to say, Trunks simply nodded to Armada. She turned and flew up into the ship, and Trunks followed after her. It was a short trip to the infirmary, and Armada immediately set Dax down in the first bed in the back of the infirmary. She immediately started ripping his clothes off of him, and Trunks was shocked at the amount of blood.

 

After asking for her help, Dax had passed out in Armada's arms. She quickly stripped him of his jacket and followed with his shirt, revealing his chest. Trunks could immediately smell the pungent odor of infection, and Dax's chest was littered with cuts, burns, and other wounds that Trunks couldn't identify. The demi-Saiyan turned and walked back into the front room of the infirmary, reaching into the cabinets to pull out supplies. He walked back into the back room as Armada finished stripping Dax down until he was nude, as even his undergarments were completely soaked with blood and Kami-knew-what-else.

 

Armada turned to Trunks and regarded him with cautious concern when he held out the antiseptic kit to her. “You don't have to help me,” she explained, understanding his feelings completely.

 

“It's okay,” Trunks said, his voice somber as his anger had left him upon seeing the full extent of Dax's injuries. “The sooner he's healed and ready to leave, the sooner I can deal with him,” he finished, his eyes darting down to the antiseptic kit again.

 

Armada gingerly took the kit from his hand and nodded in understanding. She would help Dax now, because he asked and because she owed him, but that didn't mean she had forgotten that he was part of Rieve and he had robbed her in the first place. And she wouldn't stop Trunks from exacting his revenge. Not because she feared him, or knew that she couldn't stop him. No, after seeing him at Quarry's funeral and how devastated he had been due to the Bmyhadian man's death... she had no desire to keep Trunks from exacting his revenge.

 

 

-+-

 

 

Trunks and Armada worked for hours to address all of Dax's injuries. He had broken bones all over the place, deep cuts and stab wounds that needed to be stitched together, burns that required special burn patches to help the skin regrow and heal, and other various injuries. Trunks could tell from the various injuries and how most had been inflicted merely to cause pain and not kill the man, that Dax had been tortured. If that was the case, why would he run to Armada for help, and not his Rieve allies? Trunks didn't understand the mobster's actions, and he wasn't sure that he cared to.

 

After getting Dax slightly cleaned up and dosed with medication to address the various issues he was facing, Trunks parted with Armada in silence. He went to his room to get some rest, as night had fallen, but found himself unable to sleep. He simply stared at the ceiling, thinking about Quarry, and Murtole; thinking about his mother and Mia and Neis and Terry at home, wondering how they were doing; thinking about Rieve and knowing that he needed to put an end to the group if he was going to return him and not spend the rest of his life worrying about the people of Bmyhad, and if Rieve were to ever come after him on Earth. 

 

He also thought about his comrade, Armada. Was he wrong to keep Dax's visit to Ute, and his subsequent run-in with the mobster a secret from her? At the time it seemed like a good idea. Then again, he had asked for her trust on Belos after that and she gave it to him. He found that he now trusted her more than he ever thought he would. Suddenly things were different, and Trunks found it hard to understand exactly what he was thinking at the time. Armada had kept things from him in the beginning, yes, but now that he thought about it, he realized that she had only kept him in the dark regarding Rieve. He realized that she never considered him a part of that conflict, and worked to keep him from getting involved. She'd had his best interests at heart from the beginning, even when he thought she was nothing more than a mere criminal who used her abilities to enrich herself and hurt others. The truth was, she was far more complicated than that, but she liked people to think of her as nothing more than a criminal mercenary. She certainly didn't see herself as anything else.

 

After several hours of laying in bed with only his thoughts to accompany him, Trunks decided to get up and check in on Armada. He could sense that she was still sitting in the infirmary, and he wondered how Dax was doing. Upon approaching the infirmary, Trunks heard someone speaking, and quickly realized that it was Dax.

 

“...I hated that asshole,” Dax's voice, while hoarse, was easily distinguishable from Armada's. “And his prick woman, Sofia,” Dax added, laughing.

 

Trunks stepped into the back room of the infirmary, Dax still laying where he had last seen him, though he had one eye open. Armada sat in a chair on the wall opposite from the foot of Dax's bed. She was staring at Dax with concern, despite the gangster's carefree laughter. 

 

Dax noticed Trunks as soon as the demi-Saiyan stepped through the doorway. “Ah, the man of the hour,” Dax spoke, his humor detectable despite the weak, raspy tone of his voice. Trunks merely stared back at Dax with a sullen yet stony expression. Dax laughed lightly. “I guess you're not happy to see me, either.”

 

“You killed Quarry,” Trunks said flatly, his voice betraying no emotion.

 

“Ah,” Dax closed his left eye briefly before reopening it. “the Orelnenn kid. I didn't kill him, actually,” Dax began. “He wasn't supposed to be killed. We needed information that he had. That's why I ran off when I did, when I got the call that my men had their hands on him. Unfortunately by the time I arrived, one of the assholes under me shot and killed him. I blew his fucking brains out in response for being such a dipshit,” Dax explained matter-of-factly. “I ate some serious shit about how that was botched back at headquarters, too,” he finished.

 

Despite his anger and his certainty that Dax had killed Quarry, Trunks felt that Dax wasn't lying to him. His explanation still made him responsible for Q's death, so he wouldn't have said it to keep Trunks from killing him. An overwhelming sadness descended down upon Trunks's shoulders; if he had simply called Armada when he first ran into Dax, they would have gone and rescued Q, and Q would still be alive.

 

“What happened to you?” Armada asked, suddenly changing the conversation.

 

Dax scoffed as his eye fell upon her. “Rieve,” he answered flatly. “This is the kind of shit they do to you when they think you've betrayed them,” he added. “Unfortunately I had no answers that made any sense to them. I was able to get away when they took a brief break.”

 

“Corvus mentioned you to me,” Armada explained, suddenly understanding that Rieve must have discovered the connection between them. Why it took so long, was the mystery, since Corvus apparently knew months ago.

 

“He was the only one who knew,” Dax replied. “Hell, I didn't even know you were _alive_ until you destroyed the factory. I told Corvus and he convinced me to keep it quiet.”

 

“ _I don't know what to do,” Dax said as he paced back and forth, reaching up to pull at his hair. “I didn't even know she was alive, Corvus!” he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I thought she died with everyone else eight years ago.”_

 

“ _Hey,” Corvus said, setting his hands on Dax's shoulders to get the younger man to stop pacing anxiously. “It's gonna be okay,” the white haired fighter reassured his comrade. “I know you Dax. I know you didn't have anything to do with this,” Corvus continued. “But you can't mention this to anyone else, no one at all, okay?”_

 

_Dax nodded. “I haven't talked to anyone about it but you,” he replied. “I just saw the surveillance footage in Palmer's lab and came straight here to talk to you,” he explained, worry punctuating his every word._

 

“ _Good,” Corvus nodded, his spiked white hair bobbing with the motion. “Look, I know Ryan, he's one of my best friends and I've known him since he got here,” Corvus began again. “But we can't let him know about this. He'll never give you the benefit of the doubt. He'll order me or Preva to kill you, and I'll have to do it,” the Rieve enforcer explained sadly. “I know you wouldn't betray us, Dax. So we have to keep this between us, okay?” Dax nodded emphatically in response to Corvus._

 

“He said that Rieve would kill me if he found out. Nobody else figured it out, because I never mentioned Valencia and they never found anything about you related to Valencia,” Dax explained, his eye unfocused as his vision turned inward to his mind. “No Ar, you weren't the problem,” he continued, looking up at Armada. Dax's eye drifted over to Trunks in the doorway. “ _He_ is.”

 

Trunks's eyes widened in surprise, and Armada turned in her seat to look at her comrade. “What do you mean?” Armada asked, glancing back at Trunks.

 

Dax scoffed. “They got a full scan of his energy when you two were on Belos. Apparently 51% of this guy's Zone 3 matches me,” Dax said, a sarcastic smile forming on his lips. “That means you're half-Saiyan,” Dax said casually, looking up at Trunks with his one open eye.

 

Trunks's world froze when the words left Dax's mouth. He didn't want anyone,  _anyone_ , to know he was half-Saiyan. Who knew what kind of trouble that could bring? And now he knew exactly – it meant to Rieve that he was allied with Dax, even though the two men didn't even know of each others existence.

 

“That doesn't make any sense,” Armada broke in, apparently missing the magnitude of Trunks's Saiyan heritage. She glanced from Trunks and back to Dax. “Valencia picked you up on Wen, you said you were born there,” Armada continued, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 

Dax closed his eye for a second and laughed. He opened it again and looked straight at Armada. “Yeah, that's true, I was born on Wen. But my parents weren't,” he explained. “They were teenagers who were sent off-world on a mission together when some asshole blew up their home world. Once they heard about what happened, they went into hiding, eventually ending up on Wen. They said they hated each other's guts, but over time I guess things changed, because I was born,” Dax added with a slight laugh. “Or maybe because they thought they were the only two Saiyans left. Who knows?”

 

“My question is,” Dax spoke up once more, his gaze landing squarely on Trunks, “where the hell are you from?”

 

“A world deep into the Frontier,” Trunks replied, unwilling to give more information than that. “The planet Vegeta was destroyed by Frieza, the leader of the Planetary Trade Organization. He took a few Saiyans with him to serve him as soldiers after destroying the planet. One of those Saiyans, Vegeta, ended up on my home world and met my mother, and, well...” Trunks trailed off, not needing to explain _exactly_ how he came to be born.

 

“Holy shit,” Dax said, his face falling into serious lines. “Apologies that I can't bow to you properly, prince,” he finished, his voice losing its sarcastic tone.

 

“Prince?” Armada repeated, her voice incredulous. She turned to look back up at Trunks.

 

Trunks held up his hands in defense. “It really doesn't mean anything,” Trunks answered her when Dax cut in.

 

“The hell it doesn't,” Dax butted in. “All the kings of the Saiyans were named Vegeta, so if you're the son of a Vegeta, you're royalty. Our people may have been slaughtered but my parents wanted me to know about our culture,” he finished, explaining the inevitable question about how he came to know this information.

 

Armada turned back to Dax. “So when Rieve discovered that the two of you are Saiyans...” she trailed off.

 

“Not exactly,” Dax cut in. “They don't know anything about the Saiyans. But they have full spectrum scans on all members of the organization who fight with energy, like me.”

 

“So they don't know anything about Saiyans, they just saw the relationship between our scans and assumed that you were helping Armada and I,” Trunks finished explaining for Dax.

 

“Yeah, that's the gist of it,” Dax responded, letting out a deep sigh. “They put me through a lot of pain to try and get any information out of me, on you,” Dax nodded toward Trunks. “Unfortunately they didn't get anything because I don't know shit about you,” he finished with a laugh. “Not that they believed that, at any rate.”

 

Dax paused a moment, his sarcastic attitude suddenly leaving him. “Thank you, Ar,” he said, his voice somber as he looked to his old comrade on the opposite side of the room.

 

“Don't thank me,” Armada said flatly, her voice sounding a bit more normal to Trunks's ears. “I owed you one, so now we're even. You're on your own from this point forward,” she finished.

 

With a slight laugh, Dax closed his one good eye and let himself relax into his hospital bed. “Fair enough. I don't believe I'll be returning to Rieve at this point,” he added, letting out another deep breath. 

 

After sitting silently for a moment, Armada rose from her seat and moved to walk out of the infirmary. Trunks stepped aside for her to pass through the doorway into the front of the infirmary, before turning and following her out. Once they were out in the hallway in the ship, Armada pressed a button to close and lock the infirmary behind them.

 

“What, you don't trust your old pal?” Trunks asked, trying to make light of the situation.

 

Armada looked up from the door panel to his eyes and her expression told him everything he needed to know. “No, I don't,” she added for emphasis, stepping around him and walking down the hallway toward the bridge. Trunks watched her leave before deciding that he, too, was going to retire to his room for the evening. He still didn't sleep well, however, because he wondered if anything Dax had said was true. If it wasn't, and this was all some sort of a setup, then Dax had gone to some serious extremes to make it believable. Still, Trunks couldn't trust him, so he had to consider all options. Which was what he did for the rest of the night.

 

 

-+-

 

 

When Trunks awoke later that morning, well after the sun had come up, he reached up and rubbed at his forehead. He had managed some intermittent sleep, but his thoughts and anxiety about their current situation kept him up most of the night, and now he had a spectacular headache to go along with it. He finally forced himself to get up, get dressed, wash his face and leave his room, headed for the galley to get something to eat. 

 

As Trunks passed through the lounge to head down the hallway to the galley, he saw that the door to the infirmary was open. Curious, he changed course and walked into the infirmary. From within the first room, he heard voices, so Trunks headed for the second room. He stopped before he stepped into the room, and shifted to the left a bit to stand behind the wall, next to the door frame. Something told him not to walk in, but to stand back and listen.

 

“I'm just here to make sure you don't die,” Armada said flatly, her head down as she stood next to his bed.

 

“So you've come to check up on me and make sure I'm okay? How sweet,” Dax said, looking over at Armada as she read his vitals from the monitoring equipment. The swelling around his right eye had decreased significantly, but he could only open it halfway. “I don't think you've ever checked in on me like this in your entire life,” he added with a snort.

 

“This will be the last time,” Armada replied, here eyes finally rising to meet hers. Her eyes, like her tone, were cold as she stared down at Dax.

 

“What happened to you, Ar?” Dax asked softly.

 

“Same thing that happened to you, don't you remember?” Armada spat, taking that moment to turn and walk away from him.

 

“Aren't you gonna tell me what happened?” Dax called out, and he stopped walking. “What happened to Valencia? I heard the Republican military destroyed it not long after I was captured. Which was what, almost nine years ago now?” He paused a moment. “I'd like to know what happened. Please,” he pleaded.

 

Armada turned to face Dax, standing between the foot of his bed and the doorway leading out of the room. “I killed everyone,” she answered, her voice betraying no emotion.

 

“What...?” Dax muttered under his breath, his face contorting in confusion. 

 

Trunks's face also twisted up in confusion, where he listened to their conversation from behind the wall leading into the front of the infirmary.  _What is she talking about?_ Trunks wondered worriedly.

 

“I killed them all,” Armada reiterated, her voice plain but hardened as usual.

 

 

-+-

 

 

_[Nine years ago...]_

 

 

_After the battle outside Omonos, and you had been captured, the Republican military finally decided to send an entire battalion after us. Valencia was strong, but not powerful enough to fight off the full might of the Republic. They had finally seen us as a significant threat, and were reacting accordingly. Valencia would never survive. It was only a matter of time. So I held on, waiting for the Republic to catch up to us and finish us off._

 

_The Laevatein was a much faster ship than the regular Republican fleet. So they had to send scouting units after us to maintain our position. Eris squad had been deployed to deal with one particular scouting unit._

 

As soon as the air lock hissed and the door opened, Armada charged forward into the  _Laevatein_ , hurriedly ripping off her helmet. “What happened?!” she shouted at her squad leader, Canus, as he dragged the body of an unmoving Trajanus along with him.

 

“He took a direct hit,” Canus turned and shouted to Armada. The medics had already been alerted, so when Eris squad returned to ship, they were waiting to take Trajanus to the infirmary. Canus helped set his brother down on the stretcher, before reaching up and removing Trajanus's helmet. Armada had seen that his helmet was damaged, but she wasn't prepared for the injury he had sustained underneath. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as they wheeled away her comrade. When had he been hit? She never saw a ship fire in his direction. Did she lose track of where he was during the battle? She hadn't been there to help him, and now, he didn't look like he was going to survive. If she lost Trajanus, she lost her best friend, her brother, the only person who understood her. Sure, he was technically only the brother of Canus, but Canus had treated them both magnificently sternly since they had been forcefully conscripted into Valencia thirteen years ago. Trajanus was the only one who understood exactly what she was going through, because he was in the exact same situation.

 

_They did the only thing they knew how to do – they threw his body into a rejuvenation tank._

 

Armada stood in front of the tank, after the medic team had finally let her visit her comrade. They said he may need up to a week inside, with the degree of his head injury. There was a lot of damage to repair. She stared up at his unconscious form, his short black hair floating around him in the tank.

 

“He will recover,” Canus said while setting a hand down on Armada's left shoulder in an effort to comfort her. Armada turned and nodded to the man who had effectively raised both her and Trajanus from the moment they were captured by Valencia. She wanted to believe him, but she had heard the rumors. Governments, militaries, and even mercenaries had stopped using the tanks. That was why the parts and equipment for their maintenance were so easy to come by. She didn't want to believe the rumors, but there was a reason that all of these entities were abandoning this technology, and the thought of it made her sick.

 

_By that time, rejuvenation tank technology had been mostly abandoned. While it worked well at getting the body to heal itself by regenerating its own cells, there was a significant side effect. Repeated use caused brain damage, among other emotional and stability issues. And if someone with a head injury was placed into the tank, their brain cells may regenerate completely, but their mind would never be the same. Unfortunately, that was exactly what happened to Trajanus._

 

_When he emerged from the tank, he was a completely different person. Violent, unstable, emotionally unhinged. He repeatedly attacked Canus and I. His brother could do nothing by try to stop him without hurting him, which took up all of Canus's time. He stopped tutoring us about Cresselius and training us in Cresselian martial arts._

 

Armada grabbed at Trajanus's hands around her neck, desperately trying to pry them off of her. The edges of her vision were starting to fade to black due to the lack of oxygen getting to her brain, as her comrade strangled her. Trajanus had her bent over backwards onto a table in the mess hall, staring down at her with wild eyes as he tried to snuff the life out of her. Armada wasn't even sure why; he had been fine when they were walking past the mess hall and suddenly he attacked her.

 

Someone came up from behind Trajanus and dealt a devastating blow to the back of the Cresselian man's neck, causing him to lose consciousness and fall forward, landing on top of Armada. She immediately pried his hands from her neck and sucked in a desperate breath.

 

The man who had attacked Trajanus reached forward and pulled the unconscious soldier's body away from Armada, gently setting him down on the floor. “You're going to be okay,” the tall man with blue skin, long pointed ears and green hair spoke, reaching down to help Armada stand up.

 

“Thank you Lex,” Armada said, letting herself fall onto the bench of the table into a seated position while she rubbed at her neck.

 

“Let me see,” Lenyxaurus said, pushing her hands out of the way as he bent down to get a better look at her injury. He held her jaw gingerly with his hands as he turned her head from one side to the other. “You're going to be fine,” Lex explained, smiling at Armada.

 

“That's the third time this week he's attacked me,” she explained, her gaze falling down to her comrade's still form on the floor. “Canus was here the other two times, but this time it was just the two of us,” she tried to explain, but her voice died on her tongue. If Canus knew she was telling Lex about any of this, he'd beat her bloody. _'We are all that we have, do you understand? You cannot fraternize with any of the others. They will only lead us to ruin.'_

 

“I know,” Lex said, his smile fading as he stood upright. “I guess Cain has had his hands full with Tren and needs a break every now and then, but it seems that he can't be left alone,” Lex finished, reaching down to pick up the soldier he'd knocked unconscious.

 

“I was with him,” Armada said lowly, her eyes falling to the floor. “I couldn't stop him. I'm too weak,” she said bitterly, her anger directed inward.

 

“Armada, it's not your fault,” the second lieutenant of the ultimate Aura squad said to her, trying to reassure her.

 

She looked up at Lex. “I know I can't help him,” she said, but Lex wasn't sure that she meant that she understood she was not responsible for Tren's well-being. “I can't help anyone.”

 

Lex sighed as he looked down at the child before him. “Come on, help me drag Tren back to Cain's room,” he said, holding Trajanus's right arm around the back of his shoulders. Armada nodded and stood, lining up underneath of her comrade's unconscious body on his left, taking his left arm and pulling it around her shoulders. Both Lex and Trajanus were significantly taller than Armada, so she and Lex floated up off of the floor and flew out of the mess hall, down the interior hallways of Valencia's flagship, the _Laevatein_ to return Trajanus to the custody of his older brother, Canus.

 

_Trajanus had suffered significant brain damage. Canus spent all of his time handling his brother, and getting beaten by him. You were gone. Lex was constantly under the thumb of Commander Juvius. I was left on my own for the first significant time in my life. I realized that we were never going to leave Valencia. All we could do was hope that the Republican military would catch up to us and destroy us all. I kept waiting for them to make their move, but every time they got close, somehow Valencia managed to escape their clutches._

 

_On one of the sorties to destroy the scouting units, I stole a Republican radio. I brought it on board the Laevatein and dumped it into a trash can, hoping they could track the radio to find our location. It didn't work._

 

_Months later, the Republican military had finally cornered us from three directions near a world called Narakesh. There was nowhere for us to run to. We entered into orbit around Narakesh, while Commander General Valencia and Commanders Juvius and Dreytal tried to come up with a plan. We simply waited for orders._

 

Armada left the infirmary, having just finished her monthly checkup alongside Dheihar. Dheihar had it far worse than Armada; while she had been young enough for the procedure to prevent complications when it was performed on her, Dheihar was not so lucky. She needed monthly injections which caused her to turn feverish with pain. She was having one such episode when Armada left the infirmary, not wanting to stay and watch the woman suffer.

 

The ship was slowly becoming more empty as with each scouting squad attack more and more soldiers were vanquished. In the empty halls, Armada decided that instead of heading back to her barracks, she would go upstairs to the old unused community bathrooms. No one ever went up there, so it was a place she could sit and think.

 

Minutes later, Armada was sitting on the tiled floor in the long community bathroom, one of the lights above blinking as it struggled to stay on. Armada had her back against the far wall, with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. When was the Republic going to come and finish them off? She couldn't wait any longer. She wanted it to be over. Canus had spent years teaching her and Trajanus how to be tough and survive everything they knew they would be subject to in Valencia, but it wasn't enough. There was only so much that Armada could take, and she'd taken it all and then some. She had no capacity for hope left; hope that they would one day return to Cresselius. What did that even mean? She didn't know. She was only four years old when Valencia captured her. She didn't know anything of Cresselius except what Canus taught her and the few memories that Trajanus had shared with her, since he was seven when they were captured. She didn't  _care_ about Cresselius, or going back there – it meant nothing to her. It was just another nameless world, faceless world like all the others she had set foot on in her lifetime.

 

Her friend and only confidante, Trajanus, was dead. Or at least, the Trajanus she knew was dead. Canus was fraying at the edges, fighting to try and get his brother back while keeping him from killing them in their sleep. Dax had been captured and probably executed by the Republican military eight months ago. Even some of the other Balaurian Infantry soldiers that were close to her age, like Dostov or Nilty – they had been killed by the Republic. Valencia was falling apart but Armada wanted it to  _just die already_ . Everyone had suffered enough, for years, for  _decades_ , why couldn't it just die and end the suffering? No one would miss them. The universe might even be a better place without a merciless mercenary force that killed for the highest bidder. 

 

Armada suddenly realized that if Valencia was going to die, she was going to have to be the one to end it. If the Republican military couldn't do it,  _she_ could. She knew exactly what to do. There was no time to waste. While everyone was busy preparing for the next battle, the armory would be unguarded. She could easily sneak in and pick up an NF grenade without anyone noticing. So she did just that.

 

_Everyone was busy waiting for the Republican attack. It never came. We orbited Narakesh for weeks. I decided to end it, for all of us. I went to the armory, which no one was guarding, and stole an NF grenade. I took the grenade to the rear of the ship, to the Talon drive engine. I knew the NF grenade itself couldn't destroy the Laevatein, but if I used it to destroy the ship's engine, which was basically a larger version of the NF grenade, that the explosion would destroy the ship... and all of us with it._

 

Once the last few maintenance crew members in engineering retired for the evening, Armada leaped forward and floated down from where hid in the rafters, landing on the floor just in front of the ship's engine. She stared up at the monstrous, glowing blue cylindrical tower that stretched several stories over her head. She felt bad for a few people – for Lex, for Commander Juvius's son, Gravia—but she knew what she needed to do. It was the only option left. Valencia had to be stopped, and that included herself.

 

Armada held a silver sphere with several blue indentations in the surface in her right hand. She rolled the sphere over in her hand, searching for the activation switch. Once she found it, she ran her thumb over the switch gingerly, appreciative to the device for its intended task.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Armada turned and looked back to her left to see Hirlos standing nearby. She thought he was in the infirmary with his lover, Dheihar. The two of them would often sneak off to the engine room to have sex, which wasn't unknown among Armada and some of her comrades. She didn't think he would be here by himself.

 

Hirlos's brown eyes drifted down to the item in Armada's hand, and he instantly recognized it. Knowing that there was no good reason to bring an NF grenade anywhere near the ship's engine core, Hirlos narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you doing?” he repeated, this time his voice carrying a dark, dangerous edge to it.

 

Armada turned and flew full speed toward the top of the Talon drive, but Hirlos appeared in front of her before she could get away. He reached forward and grabbed her throat with his right hand, before reaching down with his left hand to snatch her right wrist.

 

Hirlos's hands and face trembled with anger, his teeth clenched tightly. “You would doom us all?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Despite his grip on her wrist, Armada managed to turn over the NF grenade and pressed her thumb down to arm the weapon. Panicked that she had armed the device, Hirlos released his grip on Armada to snatch the grenade away from her. She immediately attacked him, landing punishing blows with her fists, elbows and knees to Hirlos's face, chest and abdomen. He wasn't defending himself as he focused on keeping the grenade away from her. With it armed, she only needed to press the detonation switch for it to explode within five seconds of the button press.

 

Armada finally charged up and fired a large energy blast at Hirlos from point-blank range. Hirlos wasn't fast enough to flee, and the blast hit him in the center of his chest. He dropped the grenade, and it fell unceremoniously to the floor below before rolling a few meters away from where it had initially fallen.

 

Suddenly, the ship rocked and shook from an explosion on the outside. Once the smoke cleared from Armada's attack, Hirlos feared that she had detonated the grenade. Instead, the ship listed violently to one side, and small electrical fires began breaking out in engineering. “The Republic...?” Hirlos said to himself as he realized the Republican military had finally made their move.

 

Armada flew down to the floor, searching for the NF grenade. It had rolled away when the ship was hit, and she didn't see where it went. Hirlos suddenly appeared behind Armada and kicked her in the center of her lower back. The hit was powerful enough to stun her when she was knocked into the metal floor of the ship below her. The ship moved violently again, and Hirlos flew higher up into the ship to avoid debris flying around near the floor.

 

From her position on the floor, Armada looked up to see that her grenade had rolled over into the starboard corner of the room. She took off after it, dodging debris as she flew. Once Armada reached the grenade, she crouched and immediately snatched it up, quickly finding the detonation switch. Once she found the detonation switch, she pressed it, knowing she had only five seconds before the grenade were to explode. She started to fly back toward the core when Hirlos appeared in front of her, launching an attack. Armada swiftly dodged his attack, flying under his punch and to his right. Once she was behind him, she reached back and threw the grenade toward the Talon drive, and it bounced a few times when it hit the ground and rolled behind the back of the drive.

 

“No!” Hirlos shouted and took off after the grenade, flying faster than Armada had ever seen him move.

 

She let out a breath, letting herself fall to sit on the floor, still near the starboard corner of the room.  _It's finally over,_ she thought, waiting for the grenade to explode.

 

Suddenly something exploded  _behind_ Armada, and a strong wind ripped around her, pulling here down and away from the ship. Looking up into the sky above her, Armada saw a gaping hole in the side of the  _Laevatein_ , blown away by several Republican fights that were firing on the mercenary flagship. Armada tried to fly back up toward the ship, but realized she was inside of a Minovsky field that had been blocked when she was inside the ship. Suddenly there was an explosion, and Armada felt a wave of something pass through her, causing all of the hair on her body to stand on end. A second explosion followed, the second far larger than the first.

 

_I did it,_ Armada thought as she fell toward the surface of Narakesh. She watched as the  _Laevatein_ disappeared in a bluish-white explosion, the light so bright it burned her eyes. Armada rolled over, turning so she was looking down at the surface of Narakesh as she fell. The sky was a mixture of pink, orange and purple, as the sun set on the other side of the world. The colors in the sky were reflected by the ocean below, and lit up mountains in the distance in the same impossible mix of colors. It was the most beautiful thing Armada had ever seen in her life.

 

Despite falling out of the ship during the attack, Armada knew she wouldn't survive the fall. She closed her eyes, for the first time in her life finally feeling free. Something suddenly hit her, and the force was so great that she blacked out completely.

 

_When I woke up, I was in a AEM cuffs in a Republican brig. I said nothing, didn't eat any of the food they offered me. I was devastated. Several days in, I don't remember how many, I was escorted from the brig to another room on the ship._

 

Armada followed behind the soldiers leading her through the ship and to another, unknown destination. She mostly looked down at the floor in front of her, not bothering to look up and around at her surroundings. What did it matter? Hopefully they would execute her soon and she would be done with this farce of being 'captured.'

 

The soldiers stopped on a large lift that went farther down into the ship. Armada only looked up when the lift finally cleared the last bit of the tunnel, revealing a large open hall in front of them. The soldiers led Armada toward the side of the hall, toward a set of doors on the far side. As Armada walked, she realized the room was lined with windows. She glanced out the windows to her right, and noticed a plethora of ships flying around. Wondering what was going on, Armada suddenly ran over to the windows. “Hey!” one of the guards called out after her, he and the other soldier running after her.

 

When Armada reached the windows, she couldn't believe what she saw. They were still orbiting Narakesh, as she recognized the planet below. But that planet was vastly different from the last time she saw it. The atmosphere was full of smoke and glowing pieces of debris. Ships were taking off from the surface and fleeing as fires engulfed entire continents below. Armada stared down in shock; what had happened? She didn't understand what she was looking at.

 

The soldiers reached Armada and smacked the back of her knees with shock rods, dropping her to the ground. The lifted her up by holding their hands underneath her arm pits and dragged her the rest of the way to her destination.

 

Soon after, Armada found herself sitting at a white table in a room that was entirely white, with a long mirror across two walls. A woman with brown hair sat opposite of her, wearing a Republican military uniform – an officer's uniform, no less.

 

“We know what Valencia is,” the woman finally spoke. Armada didn't look up at her. “We know about how they kidnap and breed children for their special infantry program. You're part of that program, aren't you?” she asked, her voice calm. Armada's eyes finally drifted up to look at the woman sitting across from her.

 

“What we don't understand, is what happened on that ship two weeks ago,” the woman said, setting down a tablet in front of Armada that showed footage of the _Laevatein_ exploded over the surface of Narakesh. “It appears that someone set off a nuclear fusion grenade inside the ship near the ship's engine core,” she continued speaking. “It caused enough damage in the sky to drop the ship to the surface of Narakesh. Unfortunately the Talon drive didn't explode until it landed on the surface of Narakesh.”

 

Armada's eyes shot up from the tablet to the woman sitting across from her, panic welling up inside her. “The explosion of the Talon drive on the surface of Narakesh incinerated over six hundred million people instantly,” she continued. Armada's hands clenched in her lap, underneath the table. “The atmosphere is irreversibly irradiated. Narakesh doesn't have an advanced spaceflight program, so those who could escape the world have done so. The Republic has quarantined the planet so we are unable to send ships to in to help evacuate. Rough estimates are that approximately one hundred to one hundred and fifty thousand people will escape. The remaining three and half billion people will perish within months, maybe a few years if the radiation doesn't kill them quickly.”

 

The woman picked up her tablet from the table and switched to another screen. “What we would like to know is, why did you set off that NF grenade in the core engine room?” she asked, finally looking up to the teenager sitting across from her. The officer's eyes widened when she regarded Armada, and her expression fell.

 

Across the table from her, tears silently rolled down Armada's face. The tears washed away the dirt and blood on her face in their path, as Armada had not bathed or cleaned herself up since finding herself in Republican military custody. Underneath the table, she clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into the palms of her hands and caused them to bleed.

 

_After that, a man in a suit – a politician, I'm sure – arrived on the ship. He and the officer would argue every day about what to do with me._

 

“ _She's a liability! We can't possibly put her in prison, think of the cost to protect her life. Additionally, she'll never be able to be rehabilitated. Look at her. She's been like this her whole life. Nothing will ever change.”_

 

“ _Even so, we can't execute a child. She was conscripted into Valencia sometime between thirteen and fifteen years ago – when she was barely able to walk! She is a victim in this, just the same as the people Valencia has killed over the years.”_

 

“ _She may be a victim, but we have no way to help her. No one can help her. Not to mention, that she murdered three and a half billion people on Narakesh! We can't just let her go, she committed a genocide of catastrophic proportions.”_

 

“ _We do have to punish her, but if we take her life, or lock her away for the rest of her, we are no better than animals. We can't hold a child responsible for their actions when she's been trained from nearly birth to be this way. It's morally reprehensible! If we do this, we lose our own humanity.”_

 

_Months passed, I don't know how long exactly. The ship was attacked at the edge of the Frontier, and made an emergency landing on Sicillas. In the chaos of the shipwreck, I ran. I didn't know where I was going to go, or what I was going to do. I'm not even sure why I ran. I just saw the opportunity and fled, like it was second-nature to me. I saw the politician on the way out. I had the opportunity to kill him. I think he thought I was going to. I thought I was going to kill him, too. But I couldn't. I stared at him for a moment and fled. He didn't move to chase after me._

 

 

-+-

 

 

“Ar,” Dax began, after sitting silent for several minutes when she finished telling her story. Armada stood stone still as he started to stir. Dax pushed himself to sit up, groaning in pain as he did so. He looked back up at Armada, his eyes sad and dull. “Ar, you... you shouldn't have done that...” Dax began, his voice trailing off.

 

Armada stared back at Dax, saying nothing. She had nothing else to say; she had no defense for her actions. She knew what she was doing. She knew what the outcome would be. While she had underestimated the power of the explosion of the _Laevatein's_ Talon drive, she had made the choice to do what she did.

 

“You shouldn't have,” Dax tried again but his voice cracked, as if he was going to cry. He took a breath and steeled himself. “I wasn't captured,” Dax began, and Armada stared at him curiously. “Lex was in contact with the Republic. He was brokering a deal to get us all out,” Dax explained. “When I was 'captured,' it was because Lex saw an opportunity to get me out by turning me over to the Republic. They held me in custody, but never in jail. He wasn't lying. _He_ was the reason they knew everything about Valencia that they did. He was the reason the Republic finally came after them in force.”

 

Armada's gaze fell to the floor. “I'm sorry Ar,” Dax added. “Lex was trying to find time to tell you, but my guess is he couldn't get time alone with you. He said Juvius was suspicious of him and had him on a tight leash.” Dax sighed heavily again. “Ar, Lex had a wife, Jann, and a daughter named Hana.”

 

Armada's eyes shot up to Dax's, wide in shock. “He told me when he left me behind to be picked up by the Republic, to promise him to find his wife and girl and protect them. After Valencia was destroyed, they released me. It took me about four years, but I finally found them. Unfortunately Jann was already dead, but Hana...” Dax trailed off, his eyes falling away from Armada's. “She'd gotten into trouble with a local gang called Rieve. I told them I'd join up with them if they promised to leave her alone. My skills were worth more than the money she owed them, so they agreed. Hana fled, I don't know where she is now, I'm afraid to look her up.”

 

The two former soldiers of Valencia were quiet for several minutes. “I'm sorry, Armada,” Dax finally said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

 

“It's fine,” Armada replied flatly, staring back at him with the same guarded dark blue eyes he was used to seeing. “I'll be in to check on you later,” she said before turning and walking out.

 

Before Armada walked into the front room of the infirmary, Trunks used a burst of his energy to fly to the galley. He busied himself at the refrigerator and saw Armada walk past the open door down the hallway, headed for the bridge.

 

Trunks leaned on his hands on the counter in the galley and sighed. He had wanted to know more about Armada, but now that he knew what he did, he wished he'd never eavesdropped on her conversation with Dax.

 

 

-+-

 

 

The rest of the day, Armada retreated into her barracks. Trunks could feel her ki and knew she was in her room. He stood in front of the door to her room, preparing to knock. Her ki felt... _depressed_ , for lack of a better word. After what he had listened to earlier, he was worried about her. She talked to Dax like it was no big deal, but her ki didn't lie. It was unusual for Armada to hole herself up in her room, unmoving. And if her room was a mirror image of his, then it felt like she was in the bathroom the entire day, which was _definitely_ unusual.

 

Late that night, Trunks was in his room with the door closed, preparing for bed. He finally felt Armada's ki move from her room, and down the hall. He stopped brushing his teeth and concentrated on her movements. After a short trip around to the lounge and back into the bridge, Armada left the ship. It felt like she left the hangar, but then her energy hadn't really left. Trunks suddenly realized where she was, and finished brushing his teeth. He tossed on his jacket and followed her outside.

 

Trunks flew up to the top of the hangar, and landed softly on the roof. “Hey,” he called out to her; she was sitting on the flat roof of the hangar on the back side of the building, her back leaning against the elevated edge of the roof. She was sitting her black skirt, black boots and white shirt, holding a bottle in her right hand.

 

Armada made no move to acknowledge Trunks, but she also didn't turn him away. He walked over to her, and sat down on the roof next to her. Her head slowly tilted back and looked up at the night sky, dozens of bright stars visible above.

 

“I heard your conversation with Dax,” Trunks finally spoke. “I'm sorry for what happened to you,” Trunks added, genuinely trying to express sympathy.

 

Armada's head came back down to stare across the roof of the hangar. She slowly reached up with the bottle in her right hand, bringing it to her mouth to take a long drink of the liquid inside. Trunks had his suspicions, but after getting a waft of the smell he was now certain – she was drinking the same alcohol she had once used to sterilize her own wounds.

 

Armada said nothing, and Trunks didn't press the issue. He understood all too well the type of deep, all-encompassing sadness she was feeling. While their pain may have arisen from different circumstances, that pain itself was much the same.

 

After drinking the first half of the bottle over a silent hour under the stars, Armada finally spoke. “I was careless,” she began, her gaze still facing forward and not daring to look at the man sitting to her left. “I was careless and thoughtless and didn't think things through,” she continued. “And because of that, three and a half billion people died. I killed them, because I was careless.” She spoke slowly, and while most people wouldn't notice it who didn't know Armada, her words were a bit soft. Trunks could tell that she was drunk. She probably knew, the same as he did, that she could use her energy to burn off the alcohol. But she didn't want to, she needed the numbness that alcohol brought, and he knew _that_ feeling all too well.

 

As Armada lifted the bottle to take another drink, Trunks spoke. “I know it's not the same, but I can understand how you feel,” he began, not pausing long for her to grow angry at him before he explained himself. He turned to look at her. “On my world, two people attacked and killed people for sport, for a very long time,” he began, leaving out how those people were really androids. Now wasn't the time for that explanation. “I was too weak to stop them, and every time I tried they nearly killed me. I never gave up trying, and eventually I defeated them. But,” Trunks paused a moment, “by the time I stopped them, they had murdered more than six billion people.”

 

Armada slowly turned to look at Trunks, her gaze impossible for him to read due to the haze of alcohol in her system. “I was too weak to stop six billion people from being killed, right in front of me,” Trunks added for emphasis. He thought he saw something change in Armada's gaze, as if she understood what he was trying to say.

 

Armada lifted her right hand and moved it across her body, holding out the bottle of liquor to Trunks. Trunks knew that was as close to a 'thank you' as he would ever get, so he accepted it, taking the bottle in his own right hand. He quickly tilted it back and took a long drink from the bottle, letting out a sigh after swallowing. “You know,” he laughed, looking at the bottle and then back at Armada, “I thought this was going to taste like motor oil, because you'd be the type to drink something that tasted awful just to prove how much of a badass you are.” Trunks smiled broader. “It's actually pretty good.”

 

Armada stared at him for a long moment before finally cracking the tiniest of smiles. “It's expensive,” she said softly before taking the bottle back from him and taking another long drink.

 

“I'm sure we can afford more,” Trunks replied, still smiling. He wasn't sure he had ever seen her smile before. Smirk, sure, but an actual smile, even if it was a sad one... that was a first.

 

The two of them sat on the roof until the sun rose, sharing the bottle of liquor until it was completely gone. They sat in silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. They both knew what it was like to have millions of souls weighing down their shoulders, what the responsibility felt like to live in the face of massive death, whether one was the perpetrator or had just failed to stop it. And in some strange way, their failures brought them together in a way that neither of them would have ever thought possible.

 

 

-+-

 

 

That's the chapter. Man, this one was so easy to write because there was so little action, hahaha. Planning out the action sequences and missions is actually difficult for me, but I do enjoy the final result, despite the work. This chapter was a breeze to write, but I hope it wasn't too boring for you. Please leave a review if you have the time, I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you again!

 

-Silvia

 

Today's lyrical content courtesy of “In Pieces” by Backstreet Boys.

 


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